


Sing A Little Song For Me

by kafrickinboom



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Cargo Pilot Lance, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Jealousy, Lance (Voltron) is a Twin, M/M, Mind Meld, Music, Musical References, No Gay Panic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Romantic Shiro, Shiro's Motivational Pep Talks, Singing, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Soulmates, Threesome - M/M/M, just trust me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 08:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11528250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafrickinboom/pseuds/kafrickinboom
Summary: A Soulmate AU where every so often, your soulmate sings along with whatever song you're singing (and vice versa)- even if they're in the same room as you, even if they're on the other side of the country, or the world, or the universe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some key notes:
> 
> 1\. 'Soulmate' is always capitalized.  
> 2\. There is a difference between lowercase 'sing/song' and uppercase 'Sing/Song.' 'Sing/Song' refers to inadvertently Singing a Song sung by your Soulmate (good god, that's a tongue twister). Basically, *they* are actively singing (lowercase), and you are compelled to Sing (uppercase) along as well. A 'song' is just a regular song. A 'Song' is a musical piece you haven't chosen to sing. UGH. This is so much harder to explain than I thought it would be. The story and context explains it better. If you have questions, feel free to ask!  
> 3\. Shiro's parents are Japanese af, so he'll intermittently use Japanese speech in this story. Same with Lance and Spanish/Cubano. Translations are at the end of every chapter.  
> 4\. Trios are extremely rare, but not unheard of. Maybe 1% of the population is part of a Soulmate trio.  
> 5\. Aromantics don't have Soulmates, and are generally fine with it.  
> 6\. The POV will shift a lot in the beginning and will probably slow down to involve whole chapters of one person's POV at a time later on (don't quote me on that quite yet - I kind of write as I go rather than outlining and planning the whole thing).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Japanese, 'Haha' means mother and 'Chichi' means father.  
> The translations for the random Spanish family words will be at the end of the story due to the fact that I'll be using them so often. I think most of them can be figured out by context clues anyway. <3

The first time it happens, Keith is sitting in his foster family’s playroom coloring a picture of the moon and stars and a giant, purple spaceman. He’s got  _ yellow eyes _  and he’s super strong. He’s got fuzzy ears and likes to go on adventures with his other purple spaceman friends. Keith’s dreamed about this spaceman a lot for a four-year-old. 

He’s just about to show his foster sister, Kylie, his cool, new drawing when suddenly he starts  _ singing. _ Oh no.

_ "I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,” _ he starts, eyes wide and confused and he’s honestly really scared because he doesn’t even know what ‘wonder’ is. His voice hasn’t matured yet, so he slurs through the notes sloppily, but the cadence and timing is impeccable, far more advanced than a young child should be able to achieve. 

_ “You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,” _ he continues, and Kylie looks as shocked as Keith does. She bolts up the stairs calling up to their foster mom, leaving Keith scrambling to try and hide. Kylie was always getting Keith in trouble, so he’s not sure why he’s surprised this time around too.

_ “May you never take one single breath for granted,” _ he sings, trying his absolute hardest to just  _ stop. _ Mommy Beth never did like when people starting singing out of the blue. She always got red-faced and angry as she lectured him and Kylie about ‘demons taking over your body and making you sing for the devil.’ Keith doesn’t really know what that means, but it sounds scary when her face is scrunched up like she’s going to start throwing things again.

_ “God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,” _ he whisper-sings, hiding in the little room under the stairs.  _ “I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean. Whenever one door closes I hope one more opens. Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance. And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance,” _ he continues, and  _ wow, _ this song is pretty. He’s never heard it before, but it sounds kind of familiar, like he heard in a passing car when they were all out running errands or something. He isn’t sure. Mommy Beth usually only listens to the Christian stations or gospel music, or whatever music they play at church. 

He flinches when he hears thundering footsteps sound above him. Mommy Beth must be coming downstairs, calling for him and boy, does she sound mad. He claps a hand over his mouth as the song swells.

_ “I hope you dance, I hope you dance,” _ he sings despite his panic, and suddenly the door wrenches open. He backs himself up against the back wall, tears streaming down his face and he’s panting as he looks at Mommy Beth’s furious face, jerking away from her grabbing hands  _ on accident. _ He knows he shouldn’t run away or it’ll be worse, but he can’t help it. His body reacts without his permission sometimes.

_ “I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance. Never settle for the path of least resistance. Livin' might mean takin' chances, but they're worth takin'. Lovin' might be a mistake, but it's worth makin',” _ he sing-sobs as she yells at him, berating him for being a ‘damnable sinner.’ He backs up as she rounds on him, looming over him with crazed eyes, an apoplectic expression on her face as she bullies him into a corner. Kylie is watching it all unfold with wide, apologetic eyes, motioning for him to just stop!

He can’t stop. He really just wants it to stop, but he  _ can’t. _ He tries to tell her and Mommy Beth this, but when he opens his mouth, all that comes out in a melodious,  _ “Don't let some Hellbent heart leave you bitter. When you come close to sellin' out, reconsider. Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance. And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance. I hope you dance.” _

And suddenly everything freezes. Well, he doesn’t stop singing. Like he said, he actually, physically  _ can’t. _ But, Mommy Beth’s raised hand doesn’t come swinging down like it usually does, and her face melds into shock instead of anger. She stops advancing on him, and just stands there, watching him, listening to him carefully as he finishes out the song.

He’s still crying, but the tears eventually fade into something slower, like faulty faucets in his eyes rather than a terrified, torrential downpour. He watches her warily as the last notes fade out, as she deflates and runs a weary hand over her face, as she mutters about ‘God testing her with this child,’ as she leaves for the kitchen. 

Keith doesn’t relax until she’s out of sight.

Kylie’s on him in a second, whispering apologies and explanations of how she didn’t know what to do and she thought he was being possessed by one of those demons and how she would never tell Mommy Beth again, she  _ promises. _ She pulls him into a tight hug that has him tensing for a moment before gripping tight, face crumpling as tears spring anew. She pulls back, gently pinching his cheeks in their weird, little gesture they always did when they were really sorry for being a butthead to the other. He smiles as he does it back- a way to say ‘I forgive you.’

When Mommy Beth finally comes back out, she surprises both Keith and Kylie by apologizing for scaring them so bad. She told them the Lord stopped her from serving out discipline when she heard what he was singing about. She told them that as long as it didn’t happen at church, and they kept this a secret from Daddy Daniel, and the songs weren’t evil or lewd (whatever  _ that _ meant), that she couldn’t really be mad at Keith for singing, could she?

When she opened her arms for a hug, he apprehensively tucked into it, melting into it when she didn’t grab at him or squeeze him too tight. He wishes he had a mommy and daddy that loved him, a family that wanted to keep him, but he knows what the word ‘foster’ means, and he knows that he won’t stay here forever, and only a small part of him wishes he could stay forever. Maybe the next family will be better. He doesn’t want to leave Kylie, but she wouldn’t be the first foster sister he’s left behind (or that’s left him behind). 

For now, he’ll just content himself with the fact that the Lord saved him from getting any lashes today, and fell asleep to Mommy Beth rocking him, humming gospel.

\---

Children’s Services rehomes him within the week.

\---

It’s not until Keith is seven that he learns that the songs that would spill from his mouth without his conscious consent was not, in fact, demons, but was due to something called a Soulmate. He still didn’t fully understand it because no one had ever really talked to him about Soulmates before, but apparently they were a person (or rarely,  _ people) _ who were made just for you, someone who was complementary to you, someone who fit into the cracks and spaces in your soul and made you complete (his teacher’s words, not his).

He’s so thrown by all this new information, that it doesn’t even sink in until he’s home later that day. 

Someone is out there for him. For  _ him. _ Someone who will love him for who he is, who won’t care that he doesn’t have a family, who won’t hate him for not being comfortable with hugs, who won’t judge him for being quiet and awkward and maybe a little too angry. Someone who will stay with him forever.

He climbs into his bunk, ignoring the various screaming and laughing and crying from the other kids in his current fosters’ house. He lays there, staring at the ceiling while whisper-Singing a song in a language he’s only heard his (current) foster sister, Nina, speak when she’s trying to comfort herself after a bad dream. He only knows a couple words. Namely ‘when’ and ‘here.’ He memorizes every sound he can, replaying it in his head until it’s stuck there.

His  _ Soulmate _ sang that song. Somewhere in the world, his Soulmate is singing about ‘when’s and ‘here’s, and Keith didn’t know it was possible to  _ be _ this thrilled about anything in his life. 

He pops down from his bed, finds Nina to excitedly ask what the words mean, and furrows his brows when she translates for him, missing the mischievous smile spreading over her face in his contemplation. 

Apparently, it’s something about going to a butcher? But also, ‘don’t bring me meat from here, or here, or here, or here, but from here, here, here, here, here!’ He’s so confused as he stares blankly, trying to piece together what the point was.

That is, he’s confused until she explains that the song is paired with movements. He only barely catches her telling him another name for the song is ‘The Tickling Rhyme’ when she attacks, her bony fingers digging into all of his most ticklish places. He shrieks as he wiggles away, but she’s fast and follows him every time he catches his breath.

At some point after he’s broken away, as he’s running away, a huge smile spreads on his face, and he can’t help thinking that maybe someday,  _ he _ could sing that song to his Soulmate and pay them back for inadvertently causing this debacle with some tickles of his own.

\---

He signs up for Spanish class the following school year.

\---

 

Takashi is thirteen when it first happens to him in public. 

Sure, he’d sung Soulmate Songs a few times here and there before, but it was always at home, usually in the privacy and comfort of his bedroom. A few times in happened in front of his  _ Haha _ and  _ Chichi. _ That was always mildly embarrassing, but they just smiled tightly and waited it out. 

As a kid, he’d worried that maybe he would never find his Soulmate. It had already happened to all of his friends at that point, and some of them even sang together! It was common for children in small towns like theirs to be matched up with one another, and their Soulmates were almost always around one another’s age, so the Songs would typically start early- the lucky ones Sang as early as their second birthday!

Not Takashi though. He didn’t even Sing his first Song until he was eight. According to his parents, it wasn’t  _ that _ late, it wasn’t  _ that _ bad, but he’d heard the hesitation in their reassurances. He knew it was a little odd to start so late, but he’d heard that some people didn’t even Sing their first Song until they were almost  _ twenty, _ so he just found some solace in the fact that his Soulmate wouldn’t be a baby when he was an adult. That usually happened in bigger cities, where there were more people and more possibility. 

Still, he wanted his happy ending/beginning sooner rather than later. He was envious of the way his best friend, Matt’s little sister had Sung her first Song when she was only two.  _ Like all the lucky ones. _ He was happy for her, but his heart tugged uncomfortably, wondering when it would be his turn to Sing.

His Haha had always said he was a romantic at heart. His favorite stories were the ones where the two protagonists fall in love in the end, and love conquers all, complete with sappy confessions and a sweet kiss in the end. He loved the overly full feeling in his chest and the sympathetic butterflies in his stomach. His favorite movie is  _ Dirty Dancing. _ The way they fall in love despite their differences, and they move so beautifully with one another, and the lift in the end! He always sighs happily at that part. His favorite songs are the uplifting, happy tunes that make you want to stare up at the stars while holding a girl’s (or boy’s) hand. 

Matt liked to make fun of him for being ‘such a dork’ about it sometimes. He gagged when Takashi talked about what he wanted his wedding to look like. He beamed brightly when Takashi mentioned that he would  _ obviously _ be the best man, but promptly went back to pretending to retch when he moved on to flowers and vows. Matt was also only in his grade because he skipped two years due to incredible grades and a high IQ. None of that accounted for emotional intelligence. Takashi always just rolled his eyes and playfully punched his best friend in the arm, haughtily telling him he just didn’t know what love was yet because he’s a baby, and someday he’d be making fun of Matt for  _ his _ dorkiness. Matt responded by laughing so hard, he fell off his chair. Whatever. Screw Matt.

Anyway, he had sung a broken form of the alphabet (really,  _ A-B-C-F-D-E-G?) _ without making any conscious decision to do so when he was eight, ‘The Itsy Bitsy Spider' and a song he was vaguely sure was made up (he hadn’t known any Spanish at that point, so ‘azótale a la mocita, con la mano en la cabeza’ made no sense at the time) at nine, some song called ‘Jesus Loves Me’ when he was ten, various little songs he remembered from kindergarten at eleven, and a slew of Spanish songs when he was twelve. 

He learned in school that Soulmate Songs pretty much always happened at random. It didn’t happen every time you (or they) sang, and it took a lot of time and practice to recognize the signs to know when it was coming. A tingling in the back of your throat (that many confused with the need to cough), a pressure at the back of your tongue (that many confused with the need to throw up), and, sometimes, if the bond is strong, an emotional swelling in your heart (Takashi thought that part was amazing and couldn’t wait for it to happen to him). 

Needless to say, what with the warning signs so mild, it was really hard to pinpoint when you were going to start involuntarily Singing. If you didn’t know your Soulmate or didn’t know their schedule or the bond was weak, it was all random, all the time.

He’d heard people randomly stop in the middle of sentences to Sing. He’d seen a girl start crying when she started Singing around her date and he remained silent. He’d seen people leave the movie theater, throwing hopelessly apologetic looks to people in their seats as they Sang on the way out. One memorable time, he’d been fortunate enough to witness someone proposing to his Soulmate in song form, and she’d naturally joined in without missing a beat (he’d almost swooned right along with her).

Sometimes, at school, a classmate would start to Sing, and would be gently excused from class until it was over. One time, his Spanish teacher randomly belted out ‘Bailamos’ by Enrique Iglesias, and had to pause the lesson to exasperatedly call her wife, hilariously singing into the phone until they both cut off. She’d then reminded her wife that ‘the proper time to sing is  _ not _ when she was at work.’ Takashi just smiled fondly from the back of the class.

Ironically, it’s in the same class that he Sings in front of people outside his family for the first time. Embarrassingly, it’s some song called- what in the world? ‘Skinnamarinky dinky dink?’  _ What? _ What does that even mean? 

His face floods with a deep blush as the class entire laughs, but none harder than Matt. If looks could kill, Takashi is fairly sure Matt would have dropped dead as soon as his gaze swivels to meet him. Even Señora Ramirez claps a hand over her mouth to hide a giggle. He smiles awkwardly, then beats a hasty exit from the room. His brows furrow as he listens to the lyrics pouring from his mouth, a small, incredulous smile tugging at his lips.

_ "I love you in the morning, and in the afternoon. I love you in the evening, and underneath the moon,” _ and suddenly his heart twists just a bit in the best way. He’s more than aware of the fact that he’s young and according to his Haha, he has all the time in the world to find her (or him...or them, he mentally adds), but he can’t help but wanting to meet them  _ now. _ Especially after such a sweet, little song about how much they love someone. He wonders what it’ll be like when the love will be turned toward him.

He wants to know if his Soulmate is a girl or a boy...or neither! (Matt says his little  sister- _sibling_ denies being a girl even though sh-  _ they _ were born one, and that she isn’t a boy either. Takashi doesn’t really understand it all yet, but if Katie says they’re not a girl  _ or _ a boy, who’s he to tell them otherwise?) He wants to know what they look like, what they like to do, what they want to be when they get older. Do they speak another language (or two) like he does? Do they live close? Do they live in another country? What’s their favorite color? Their favorite food? Their favorite book? Are they good at math or science? Or are they better with word and language? Do they like to write stories? Were they excited to meet him too? Would they like him back?

He is also well aware that even if he  _ did _ meet them now (or soon), that they wouldn’t yet know how to answer the questions he wants to ask. Considering he’s only sung children’s songs for the last five years, they have to be a lot younger than him. As much as he wants to meet them, a larger part of him kind of hopes that they’re much older when they meet so he can actually hold a conversation with them. 

Sure, he can talk to Katie and she’s a little kid, but it’s always weird. How do you have an interesting conversation with a five-year-old? He shakes off his introspection as the song dies out, taking a drink from the nearby water fountain before returning to Spanish with a sheepish smile and a wave.

Matt chuckles at him, sticking his tongue out as he narrowly misses the paper ball Takashi launches at him.

He sits back, trying (and failing) to focus on taking notes as he wonders what it’ll be like when he finally meets the person made just for him.

\---

 

Lance knew from the start that his Soulmate was older than him. He still wasn’t sure if she was just a bit older or years older due to the fact that sometimes he’d sing songs he and his  _ hermana, _ Lisa, would sing, and sometimes he’d sing songs his  _ hermano, _ Luis, sang. Lisa, being his twin, was obviously his age. Luis was  _ eight years older _ than him. He really did not know what was up.

Sometimes it’d be the same nursery stuff he would randomly start Singing- something that sounded  _ exactly _ like ‘Estrellita,’ but in English. Sometimes he’d sing songs about Jesus (in which his  _ Abuelita _ would clap his cheeks between her hands, smiling proudly up at him like  _ he _ chose to sing about the Lord in the middle of their family trips to the beach). Sometimes he’d sing some emo-sounding crap like  _ “Where is your boy tonight? I hope he is a gentleman. And maybe he won't find out what I know. You were the last good thing about this part of town.” _ (Thanks, Soulmate, for inadvertently starting his Fall Out Boy obsession.) Sometimes he’d sing love songs that just  _ did _ things to his tender heart. Sometimes he’d go through a period of Singing songs that were so dark and sad, his Mama would pull him aside just to make sure he was okay (and would sometimes hold him tight when he’d tear up, admitting he was worried for his Soulmate). 

Sometimes he’d start Singing, but it very obviously wasn’t the melody. He was  _ harmonizing. _ According to school, it was exceedingly rare to actually harmonize instead of just singing a melody together. According to his family, harmonized pairs were always more eclectic and fun and adventurous, and always,  _ always _ had a strong bond. Apparently, pairs that just sang the same notes together were prone to being more boring people, more predictable. Sure, their bonds could be strong, but it was like comparing two strings laid side-by-side to a braid. The simpler the Song notes, the simpler the bond. The more complex, the stronger the bond (Lance didn’t point out that more complex could also just mean more difficult, but whatever). 

His family was full of harmonized pairs, so it didn’t really surprise him that he followed suit.

Still, surprise harmonies were the worst, honestly. Lisa would tease him endlessly for his puberty-inflicted squeaking and warbling when his voice tried its level best to sing the baritone (or worse, bass) parts. She’d tease him even more if he, for some reason, got a higher part. Lisa was such a brat that even his  _ four _ other siblings joined in on the ‘make fun of Lance’ thing until his  _ Tía _ waved them away. His Mama and Papá would just smile at him knowingly. His Abuelita would go on about how cute he is, and how much he’s growing up. Even his  _ Abuelo _ would give him a good, old fashioned ribbing about how ‘that voice just needs a little fine-tuning.’ Thus started his singing and music lessons with his grandfather, much to the amusement of everyone else in the house. 

Thus also started his love of musicals, show tunes and theater. (Not that he’d  _ ever _ admit that to his friends.)

Every Saturday afternoon, his Abuelo sat him down in front of their beat up, old piano, running him through scales and warmups before diving into show tunes and theater greats- from “Sunrise, Sunset” from ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ to “Written in the Stars” from ‘Aida’ to “Phantom of the Opera” from ‘Phantom of the Opera’ (duh) to “Seasons of Love” from ‘Rent’ to “My Man” from ‘Funny Girl’ and everything in between. He learned about the importance of parts, about the beauty of a well-sung harmony. His skin would always prickle with goosebumps when he and his Abuelo would hit the notes just right. It was even worse when his Abuelita or Papá or Mama or pretty much anyone else joined in on it too. 

Over the years, he Sang between his lessons, and frequently wondered how many of the songs he sang, whether in lessons or sung absently in his off time, reached out to his Soulmate. He wondered if she ever harmonized around  _ his _ melody.  He wondered if she had a passion for music like he did. He wondered if she liked theater. He wondered what her voice sounded like, and wondered how it would sound blending with his. 

He tried his best not to dwell on thinking about her. He clearly hadn’t met her yet, and actively waiting around to stumble across her would drive him nuts. Instead, he focused his energy into learning about key changes and time signatures and tempo and dynamics and being able to play an instrument or four. He’d built up strong calluses on the tips of his fingers from his guitar and violin, he was  _ convinced _ his wrists were stronger with the exercise he got from playing the piano, and could hold a perfect embouchure when playing the trumpet. By the time he was thirteen, he could confidently say he was musically well-versed. 

Even when his Abuelo had passed away the following year, he continued his ‘lessons’ in his grandfather’s honor, doing his best to constantly progress. If he struggled through it for the first three months, no one said a thing. If there really was a heaven, he was determined to continue making his Abuelo proud. Sometimes his Papá would sit with him, helping with little corrections here and there, singing with him, or just sharing memories from his own childhood, about how Abuelo had taught him the same as he taught Lance, and how proud  _ he _ was of Lance too. 

Lance would never admit to the ugly tears that spilled hot down his face after that.

Maybe it was just a hobby, maybe a passion, maybe an obsession, but whatever it was, it really helped him out with a lot of necessary skills. His math scores improved. His ability to focus improved. His memory and rhythm and the ability to multi-task improved. By the time he was accepted into the Galaxy Garrison at the age of fifteen and a half, he genuinely believed he owed most of his success to his Abuelo and his music lessons. He sent little prayers of thanks whenever things got rough and had to remind himself it would all be worth it in the end.

\---

So here Lance is, a year later, staring indignantly at the placement lists.  _ Cargo pilot. Still. _

He frowns as he scans the exploration and fighter pilot lists, wondering just what the hell they did that he  _ didn’t _ do in the exams and interviews. He’d done everything right! He  _ knows _ he aced the math sections. He probably got pretty close to a perfect score on all the other written tests. 

Okay, so  _ technically _ he failed the simulations, but as much as he loves his best friend to death, Hunk did absolutely nothing to prevent the tanking in their scores what with panicking and literally throwing up in the simulator. And maybe Lance was a little too excited and ready to fuck shit up, and maybe he and Pidge bickering over the right moves and the right calls and him immaturely singing over Pidge’s annoying voice (and his subsequent yelling) had distracted them from the mission, and  _ maybe _ it was 33.3333% his fault, but still! He doesn’t deserve to be stuck on the damn cargo pilot list.

He’d hoped his academic success and his willingness to be brave in the simulation would be the tipping point to pushing him into a different pilot class, but  _ noooo. _ Of course not.

He looks back up notice board, his frowning tugging deeper as he studies Shiro’s obituary still posted in the corner. 

Shiro was part of the reason Lance had also ticked the ‘exploration’ box along with the ‘fighter’ in his transfer requests. The man was a Garrison legend. Top of his class, flew through simulations with ease, hot as fuck (hey, even a straight guy could appreciate  _ that _ level of hotness), a natural leader, known for his achievements and stellar personality, and arguably the best pilot in the entire Garrison. He’d piloted Dr. and Matt Holt out to the Kerberos mission, the first humans to ever travel that far out into space. Then _something_ happened and suddenly they were all gone.

The government claims that they went missing due to a pilot error, but  _ fuck that. _ Lance doesn’t believe a single word of it. Like he said, Shiro was-  _ is _ the best pilot in the Garrison. (He’s not convinced the alternative story about them being likely dead is true either.) Shiro was known for being cool, calm, collected and  _ careful. _ There’s not a chance that he would fuck up, at least not that badly. Lance is aware that sometimes shit can just go awry, but Shiro is a master of practical problem solving. He would have, at the very least, landed and sent a distress message or something. 

He scowled at the obituary one more time before actively shaking it off. He turned on his heel, intent on finding Hunk and Pidge. They might have failed their simulation, but they were going to have some fun tonight, damn it. They all needed it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The song Keith sings in the beginning is "I Hope You Dance" by Lee Ann Womack. It was super popular in 2000.  
> 2\. The butcher song is actually legit. Typically it's sung to really little kids, and you point to non ticklish areas when saying 'not here, or here, or here,' and then go for all the most ticklish areas at 'but here, and here, and here!' <3  
> 3\. "Azótale a la mocita, con la mano en la cabeza" directly translates to "hit the little girl, with her hand on the head." It's meant to teach a few words to babies (namely hand and head), and she gets her hand directed by someone to tap her own head with her own hand. It's not mentioned in the story, and I don't think it will be later, but Lance sings this to baby cousin.  
> 4\. Anyone else recognize "Skinnamarinky dinky dink" from The Elephant Show? #True90sKids (For the Americans, at least. I'm not sure how far it spread internationally.)  
> 5\. "Estrellita" is literally "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" in Spanish.  
> 6\. More will be expanded on harmonies later. Don't worry- Lance isn't the only one singing harmony parts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this chapter is kind of retelling what happens between the beginning of S1E1 and retells things through our guys' eyes. This will be a bit of a theme until I've retold S1E1 all the way through :)

Sitting outside, Lance thinks shooting the shit with Hunk and Pidge really is the  _ perfect _ way to ease the tension that collects in shoulders every time he thinks about going back to class with all the other  _ cargo pilots. _ Ugh. 

They sit there, companionably talking about everything  _ but _ their failure (they both know how sensitive Lance is about it, and for once Pidge isn’t being his asshole-ish self), from their families and home to why Pidge is so damn sensitive about the Kerberos mission to the best and worst lunches in the Garrison caf to Pidge’s and Hunk’s projects to their Soulmates and Songs.

Lance had been there the one time Hunk had Sung in front of other people, and it was honestly the weirdest shit he’d ever experienced. The words coming from Hunk’s mouth hadn’t sounded like any language he or Hunk recognized. There was random trilling from the back of his throat that Lance hadn’t even known was possible (which...thinking back, that was stupid. Chewbacca). Hunk’s mouth had wrapped around sounds neither of them had heard before. Hunk couldn’t even recreate the sounds now for Pidge’s input and opinion. A mystery to be solved another day, they guess.

Pidge doesn’t really ever talk much about his Soulmate. A dark cloud hangs over his his head and he actually kind of clams up when the attention was directed toward him, volleying the direction toward Lance, and well…Lance never did have a problem talking about himself.

He regales them of the random Songs he's Sung over the years, sometimes religious tunes, sometimes lullabies, sometimes popular stuff, sometimes abstract shit he’d had to dig to find, mostly in English, a few in a language he’d eventually learned was Japanese (which explained to his friends why he was fluent). He tells them about the harmonizing, beaming proudly at their impressed expressions. He talks about what seemed like the constant singing in his house, so filled with Soulmates and family- how his Abuelo and Abuelita used to Sing beautifully harmonized jazz songs from the ‘50s, how his Mama and Papá would Sing their wedding song whenever they were feeling particularly mushy (which was often), how all of his  _ primos _ had absolutely no shame in belting out their Songs regardless of the grumbling to keep it down, how the first time his Tía’s singing voice ever cracked and failed was the day his  _ Tío _ died.

He wonders aloud what that was about. He understands not wanting to sing because it would just bring up too many bittersweet memories. He couldn’t imagine what a life without Singing was like, and hopes he’ll never have to find out what that's like. No, he wonders why her voice quavered, dipping flat and pulling up sharp at random, weakened and reedy in a way it had never been before.

“Well, there’s no real scientific evidence to support it, but the theory is that the weight of a Soulmate’s death just kind of breaks through vocal skill,” Hunk says, and Lance’s heart feels heavier for his Tía. 

Pidge is suspiciously quiet as he checks whatever the hell his makeshift tech reads, tight-lipped and so obviously (actively, willfully) avoiding the topic that the ensuing silence was suddenly awkward. Lance and Hunk share a concerned look, but neither say anything. Approaching Pidge about anything he doesn’t want to talk about would only result in a complete shutdown and the silent treatment until he gets over it. Whatever. He’ll come to them if he ever wants to talk. He has to know Lance and Hunk would be there for him no matter what, right?

“I’ve been picking up some weird alien chatter here. It keeps repeating one word- Voltron.” Pidge says suddenly, and Lance gives him the most unimpressed look he can fit his face into until Hunk grabs his arm, shaking him like a doll and pointing to the sky.

“Is that a meteor? A very, very big meteor?” Hunk asks shakily.

“It’s a ship!” Pidge exclaims, and he and Lance quickly decide they  _ have _ to see what’s going on, running along with Hunk hesitantly trailing behind them.

\---

_ Shiro. _ It’s fucking  _ Shiro. Holy shit. _

They sit there, watching the little screen on Pidge’s tech, and Lance can’t stop the repetitive  _ ‘I knew it, I KNEW it’ _ running through his mind. Shiro looks different than before. The first things Lance notices are the shock of white hair front and center, and a big scar running from one cheek, over his nose, to the other. There are bags under his eyes that are visible even on the monotone screen of Pidge’s tech. Absolutely none of that does anything to deter from his ridiculous attractiveness. Like,  _ damn. _ How can a man be so fucking hot literally all the time, even under duress?  _ What the fuck? _

He shakes off  _ that _ line of thought for now as Shiro’s scared voice cuts through. Lance has  _ never _ heard of Shiro being  _ scared. _

The assholes who have Shiro forcefully strapped to the bed aren’t listening to a damn thing he’s saying. They aren’t listening to the sincerity in his Shiro’s pleas, brushing him off as if what he had to say doesn’t matter. Like they aren’t concerned about the threat of aliens of whatever the hell “Voltron” is. Like they already  _ know _ about it all, or at least enough not to take anything Shiro said as anything more than information they already knew. No matter how strong his demands to be heard, no one wants to listen, perfectly content to do whatever the hell they please with him, and it’s honestly one of the more nauseating things Lance has seen recently.

Lance feels a thorn of indignation, anger and despair lodge behind his heart as the firmness in Shiro’s voice took a sharp turn toward panicked. The assholes are trying to drug him, and ignore his begging not to put him under, not to take his consciousness away. Apparently he’s got some crazy advanced prosthetic arm now, and that was cause for them to knock him out? It’s pretty obvious to anyone with working eyes and ears to see that Shiro has been through Some Shit™ and should be treated with more care than these government fucks are giving him. 

Pidge is firm when he says they  _ have _ to get Shiro out, and despite Hunk’s “voice of reason,” Lance wholeheartedly, unequivocally agrees with Pidge. They’re getting Shiro out.

A weird, overwhelming sense of wanting- no,  _ needing _ to save Shiro rises within him. Okay, that might not sound weird given his propensity toward rushing toward danger head first, but all that bravado and shit came out in simulations. This is  _ real. _ He’s always wanted to be the hero in someone’s-  _ anyone’s _ story and everyone who knew him knew that, but...this was different,  _ felt _ different. He doesn’t want to be the hero to  _ be the hero. _ He wants to be the hero so he can get Shiro away from those fucking vultures, to protect the man from anymore harm.

It’s the weirdest sensation, and Lance isn’t sure he likes it. He knew he idolized Shiro, but  _ this- _ this willingness and readiness to risk serious trouble (and possible bodily harm- who knew with these assholes) for someone he doesn’t  _ actually _ know? It’s all a bit much.

\---

And then that douchebag,  _ Keith Kogane, _ enters the picture. 

Okay, so he creates a great distraction with the explosions and shit, but goddamn it. He’s  _ always _ trying to one-up Lance, and just... _ no. _ This he’s not going to be beat, again, by Keith ‘I’m-Too-Cool-For-Normal-Human-Interaction-And-Common-Decency-And-I-Also-Find-My-Haircuts-From-80s-Movies’ Kogane. 

By the time Lance, Hunk and Pidge get into the little lab thing those assholes had set up, Keith’s got Shiro propped up against him, supporting him as they shuffle toward the exit.

“No. Nope! Nuh-uh. No, no, no you don’t.  _ I’m _ saving Shiro,” he huffs, coming to wrap Shiro’s free (hot- what the fuck, self?  _ Prosthetic) _ arm around his neck. 

“Who are you?” Keith asks, and Lance ignores the pang at that. Mullet Man can’t seriously  _ not _ recognize him...right?

“Who am I? Uh, the name’s Lance,” he blinks at Keith like he’s a dumbass because he apparently is, and his brow furrows at the blankness in Keith’s expression. His tone turns offended as he sets to remind Douchebag (yeah, he definitely deserves the capital D) of who he is. “We were in the same class at the Garrison?”

And this guy.  _ THIS _ guy. He has the audacity to ask if he’s an engineer. An engineer! And then a shred of memory seems to filter in, and Keith only remembers him- his archrival!- as a fucking  _ cargo pilot. _ Damn it, that’s going to haunt him until he transfers, isn’t it?

He scowls at Keith, whose face hasn’t really changed much for the raising of one thick, perfectly shaped eyebrow. He rolls his eyes at himself, and also Keith’s impeccable eyebrows, before they quickly beat a hasty retreat.

The feds are off in the distance, but they’re gunning it toward them, and since there’s literally one vehicle for escape- a damned two-seater hoverbike, they all pile in on each other. He and Pidge work to hold Shiro secure as Hunk’s weight helps steer the bike under Keith’s directions. At one point, Keith- undercover sass master- rudely suggests they  _ drop nonessential weight. _ What a  _ douchebag. _ Still, Lance can’t help the approval of such a sick burn curling in his mind. He covers it with another trademark eyeroll.

Also, apparently Keith has a fucking  _ death wish _ as they launch off a damn cliff, telling Lance to trust him. It should be laughable. Like, in what world should he trust his archrival not to kill them all in a fiery death a la hoverbike? Apparently,  _ this _ world, because his body involuntarily relaxes a smidge under Keith’s simple request. He mentally berates himself for it too because honestly, what the hell. He’s about to die, and his body and unconscious mind decides their very-near-future murderer is trustworthy? Uncool, man. Un-freaking-cool.

When they coast safely to lower ground, and especially when they stop at some random shack in the middle of the desert, Lance begrudgingly admits (only in his mind) that maybe Keith isn’t that bad after all- that bad of a pilot, he means. Keith is still a douchebag and the physical incarnation of  _ rude _ and his mullet is still stupid and so are his perfect eyebrows and really, what even  _ is _ that croptop jacket? Ugh. Keith is the worst.

As they haul Shiro into the little hovel, Lance can’t help but wonder what kind of Soulmate Keith has. Probably angsty and broody and arrogant like their counterpart. They’re probably dark and mysterious and only half as attractive as Keith.  _ (What?!) _ Maybe. Or maybe they’re big and strong and can temper Keith’s bullshit into something less robotic or something. (Yikes. That was pretty douchey even for him to think… Whatever. Rivals are supposed to be assholes to one another, right?) Or maybe Keith’s Soulmate is a polar opposite to him- someone light and fun and gentle and has a stellar sense of humor and an ironclad memory rather than  _ forgetting their archrival _ (yeah, Lance is never letting that one go). 

Lance frowns at himself as the idea of Keith having a Soulmate sits uneasily within him. Like, it’s not terrible that Keith  _ has _ a Soulmate. Almost everyone has one (or a couple)! He has one! He’s has no doubt that Shiro, in all of his legendary glory, has one or five. Hunk has one. A weird one, but...a Soulmate is a Soulmate. Pidge...has one? (Jury’s still out on that one, but his reactions to his Tía’s story has him wondering.) Anyway, the point is that basically everyone but aros have Soulmates and that Keith, despite being a jerk, deserves one too. 

\---

 

Keith is uncomfortable. He’s very,  _ very _ uncomfortable. 

He has two of his former (re: arguably current?) crushes, one of his crush’s childhood friends (probably), and the other crush’s best friend in his little cabin. There was barely enough room for one person in the shack, let alone  _ five, _ and being in such close proximity to so many people made him tense and stressed to the max. He never did like small spaces.

Not only is all of that going on, but back at the lab, he’d panicked. When Lance stalked up to him, talking about how  _ he _ was going to save Shiro, Keith’s immediate reaction was to act like he didn’t know him. 

Yeah, he’d seen the flash of hurt behind Lance’s eyes, but there was nothing to do about it at that point. He couldn’t just backpedal immediately, especially after the (endearing) dumbass proclaimed him as his ‘archrival’  _ (really, Lance? Still?). _ He’d said it with so much sincerity and incredulity that it rubbed Keith in all the wrong ways, sparking a mean, little thread of irritation that made him dig at one of Lance’s sore spots- being a cargo pilot. 

Not that there was anything wrong with being a cargo pilot, but Keith distinctly remembers all those loud proclamations that ‘being placed as a cargo pilot must have been a misunderstanding’ and he’d ‘be fighter class soon, just you wait’ that eventually petered out into quieter shit like ‘I’ll just put in for a transfer request’ and ‘are you kidding me? Apparently I can’t move to fighter class because the program is full’ and ‘we can’t all be Kogane.’ Considering Keith’s seat was literally  _ right _ in front of Lance’s, he'd heard it all. He'd heard how the boisterous, confident tone slowly eroded into something unsure and self-deprecating between the bursts of false bravado.

Keith may have been terrible with his own emotions and communication, but he’d learned a lot about empathy and reading others growing up in the foster system.

Anyway, he’d gotten irritated, made one tiny, careless comment and has now fucking solidified his place as Lance’s archenemy or whatever. Goddamn it.

And  _ Shiro. _ God,  _ Shiro was back. _

Before the bullshit with mindlessly hurting Lance’s feelings, when he’d went to investigate the lab, he never thought he’d find Shiro of all people laying on the sterilized bed. He’d just wanted to get information about whatever the hell crashed onto Earth, to see if it had any connection to this  _ Voltron _ he’d been searching for for months now. 

Besides, he’d just begun to come around to accepting the fact that (one of) his unrequited crush(es) had probably died. He didn’t  _ want _ to believe it. He definitely believed the government was lying about what happened.  _ Pilot error. _ Bullshit. Still, it’d been a year since Shiro, Matt and Dr. Holt disappeared, and the hopelessness had started seeping in through the cracks of his broken heart.

And then Shiro was suddenly, and quite literally, crashing back into his life, and he’d run into Lance (who he hadn’t seen since he got kicked out of the Garrison) and they were working together to save Shiro, and he’d managed to drive/fly them to safety- all with Lance’s knee digging into his ass and the knowledge that Shiro was just behind him. He’d say it was one hell of a success.

Then, he’d left Shiro under Pidge’s and Lance’s (and Hunk’s, he guessed) watchful supervision as he stepped out to clear his head.

Then,  _ then... _ he Sang. _Wow,_ did his Soulmate have incidentally impeccable timing. To this day, it had never failed to shake him and comfort him in turn. 

On one hand, he knew he still had someone out there in this hateful world that was cosmically made just for him. According to the stories and school lessons, that is. Someone was still out there singing simple Spanish lullabies (and sometimes Japanese ones) and working to soften all the hard edges he’d gained living the life he’s lived. Someone was singing the melody to his (rare) harmonies. Someone out there still has the capacity to love him just as he is- a heartening thought that had echoed through him every time he Sang since he was seven years old, when he’d just started learning about Soulmates and Songs.

On the other hand, he’s 18 years old. He’d been Singing intermittently for 14 years now. He’d been all over the place, bouncing from foster home to foster home, from school system to school system, city to city, and he  _ still _ had yet to meet The One? Fat chance. He’d never even  _ met _ someone with both Hispanic/Latinx  _ and _ Japanese heritage. Apparently that was rarer than the child version of himself was led to believe. He’d eventually started giving bits and pieces of himself over to hopelessness three years ago when his last foster mom’s sister died without ever meeting her Soulmate.

Yeah, apparently that's a thing. He knows about people who had to wait years and years to finally Sing. He knows that when a Soulmate dies, the other loses the strength in their voice. He knows that there are (extremely rare) times that a Soulmate rejects the other(s)- that almost exclusively happened in trios (and usually is due to some religiously based moral objection to polyamory). He knows that sometimes the cosmos gets it all wrong, and whether by nature or nurture, some Soulmates are toxic for one another.

He hadn’t known it was possible to go throughout your whole life without  _ ever _ meeting your Soulmate. 

The Song died out long before Shiro woke up, leaving him feeling oddly bereft without his lips involuntary curling around the now-familiar ‘Duérmete Mi Niño.’ 

He didn’t know how long he stood there staring out at the setting sun before Shiro woke up from his drugged oblivion. At some point he’d joined Keith, and they’d talked about what happened to Shiro over the past year. Or rather, Shiro struggled to find a clear memory, explaining that he really didn’t know what happened beyond very basic facts- he was on an alien ship. He had escaped. Nothing else.

“It’s all a blur,” Shiro had said. Whatever or  _ whoever _ happened, it or they had taken his memories along with them, and that thought bothered Keith more than just about anything else. 

\---

Presently, they’re all in his cabin, and he’s  _ uncomfortable. _

He doesn’t let it show. At least he doesn’t think he does. He shows them his...he’s not sure what to call it. He calls it his research board, but he’s aware it looks more like a conspiracy board. He explains what he’s been doing out here in this sandy hell ever since his expulsion.

He doesn’t like the looks they all, with the exception of Shiro, give him. They’re looking at him like he’s got more than a few screws loose, and while he doesn’t blame them, it irritates him. He  _ knows _ how crazy it sounds. Being called out to this little shack in the middle of the desert by an unknown pull? 

Yeah, if he hadn’t lived it himself, he’d probably think he's crazy too. 

\---

 

“I should thank you all for getting me out,” Shiro swings his attention from Keith’s board to his other three rescuers. “Lance, right?” And he subtly holds his breath as he holds out his right arm- his, his  _ metal prosthetic arm. _ He keeps his face level at the slight hesitation in Lance’s face, surprised when a small, genuine smile graces that handsome face and grips it in a firm, but friendly, handshake.

Shiro ignores the faint tripping in his heartbeat when the sensors send signals to his brain that his prosthetic is being touched, and by someone who isn’t scared or is trying to hurt him at that. Hell, the fact that someone was touching him at all was enough to make him feel lighter. It's the same feeling he had when Keith had put his hand on his shoulder earlier. Both touches would have seemed so insignificant pre-Kerberos. Now it made every butterfly he’d thought lay dormant in his stomach kick into overdrive.

He feels an authentic smile creep on his face. It was the third of three since he woke up (the other two caused by seeing Katie when his eyes opened [which had quickly dropped to bafflement when they motioned for him to keep quiet], and because of the ease and relief he'd felt talking to Keith again- a touch of familiarity in the muddled confusion that was his life for the last year). 

He turns to try and shake Hunk’s hand, but the poor guy is sweating bullets and won’t meet his eye.

“The nervous guy’s Hunk. I’m Pidge.” Kati-  _ Pidge _ cuts in as they shake his hand, and while he’s confused as all hell, he rolls with it. Ka-  _ Pidge _ (damn it, that would take some time getting used to) would probably let him in on what was with the subterfuge later. At least, he hoped so. He keeps his expression level as they continue. “So, did anyone else from your crew make it out?”

_ Oh. _ Now he understands. He studies them for half a second, noting the way they look  _ exactly _ like Matt, and suddenly there's a lump in his throat. It's like seeing an almost perfect carbon copy of his best friend. The only real differences are the height difference, and the way K-  _ Pidge’s _ eyes round out just a touch more at the corners. Everything else is the exact same, from the wire-rimmed glasses to the haircut to the thick, natural eyebrows. It's almost disconcerting how well Pidge reinvented themself to look just like their brother.

“I’m not sure.” He admits, eyes dancing guiltily away. “I remember the mission and being captured, but...after that it’s just bits and pieces.” 

His heart caves in on itself a bit more as Pidge’s hopeful expression falls. And then Hunk is panicking about the aliens Shiro can’t remember, and then they’re talking about Voltron, and then there’s a lot of science talk that kind of just flies right over his head, and then they’re off searching for a massive alien weapon to keep from the hands of his captors.

\---

 

Lance hadn’t really meant to activate some weird ass alien cave drawings, but he in no way, shape or form regrets it. 

For one, Keith said they’d never done that before, implying he failed at something Lance had succeeded in doing.  _ Ha! Suck it, Keith. _ For two, he’s now piloting a fucking massive, alien robot Lion that he’s pretty sure is trying to  _ talk to him, _ and this is honestly the coolest shit that's ever happened to him in his life. 

The others are holding on for dear life as he tears through the sky, absently humming Tony Bennett’s “Put On A Happy Face.” He’s not even fazed by Keith’s (rude, hurtful) commentary about how shitty of a pilot he is. He doesn't think 'the worst pilot ever' was an apt description of him. More like _‘best,’_ thank you very much.

And then they’re on some autopilot that pulls them out of Earth's atmosphere and almost has them all blasted to a bright, purple hell before he has a telepathic, multi-sensory conversation with his Lion (at least, he  _ felt _ like she's his) and wrecking some alien shit up. There’s some huge laser action and some weird drifting skid thing he does with the Lion’s feet along the side of the alien ship that blows up as soon as he pulls away. They all make a collective decision after that to lure these aliens from Earth, from their friends and family and every other human being.  

And then suddenly, he’s asking Shiro what to do about the enormous, shimmering circle that just randomly (literally) pops in existence in front of them. Lance trusts Shiro's judgment more than anyone else's in the Lion, himself included, without hesitation. He gets the all clear, from Shiro  _ and _ the rest of the team, and then they’re traveling through a fucking wormhole/portal thing and then BAM! They’re suddenly among entire star systems and a planet none of them have ever even heard of before.

_ “Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore,” _ he thinks as the Lion autopilots them all to a whole new world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> primos - cousins  
> Tío - uncle
> 
> Other notes:  
> 1\. Yes, I know that in the canon, Lance actually makes into fighter class. I kept him out in this story for the Langst that shall come later on O:)  
> 2\. I h/c Keith as being way more intuitive than a lot of other people and fics tend to make him out to be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FAIR WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS *HUGE.* It runs through the rest of S1E1. (For anyone worried, no. I will not be running through every canonical episode in a straight line. The big stuff, yeah, but I'm not going to walk us all through the entire show lol. I just wanted to get them to their Lions and forming Voltron while throwing in the Soulmate element.)
> 
> Notes for this chapter:  
> 1\. Yes, Keith's emo ass is singing Adele. She is a queen and a goddess and literally everyone loves her.  
> 2\. Atole (aka atol de elote) is a traditional Cuban hot corn- and masa-based drink. I've never had it, but I've heard it's the bee's knees.  
> 3\. Lance only starts off as 17. That will change by time we earn that E rating ;)  
> 4\. Writing action scenes is hard. I hope I did it justice.

_ At least these aliens aren’t hostile, _ Shiro thinks as he studies these new aliens, Princess Allura and her advisor, Coran, as they study him and his team in return. 

He doesn’t even think twice as he protectively steps closer to Keith and Lance. Hunk’s a big guy, and he hasn’t left Kat-  _ Pidge’s (Pidge, Pidge, Pidge, _ he mentally chants in an attempt to adjust) side, and while Shiro doesn’t really know Hunk, the last few hours he’s spent with the guy has only put him onto Shiro’s good side. He’s got a weak stomach, a bit of a weak will, and a tendency to panic, but he’s also logical and thoughtful and doesn’t even hesitate to step closer to safeguard Pidge.

It certainly doesn’t seem like they need to be so on-guard around these aliens- these  _ Alteans- _ but Shiro had learned fast and hard that you couldn’t always trust a kind-looking face. 

Really, they hadn’t had  _ too _ many issues allowing them to stay in the castle after waking up from their cryostasis. (Shiro chalked the irrational spike in jealousy when Lance caught the princess up to  _ him _ wanting to be the one to catch her. Nevermind the fact that he has literally never been driven by heroism or wanting to impress anyone. Nevermind the fact that while she’s beautiful, she’s just not his type. Nevermind the fact that the jealousy felt sharper as Lance unsubtly flirted with her. Shiro just...he didn’t want to consider the alternative.) (He’d ignored the rush of relief that came when the princess swiftly rejected Lance, even though he knew it was probably cruel of him for finding satisfaction in it.)

After a wealth of confusion, an amusing peacock fight between Lance and Coran (that he’d never admit to- he was a leader. He really shouldn’t egg Lance’s antics on), and a dizzying rush of memories triggered by the name ‘Zarkon,’ there’s a sorrowful dip in the conversation about old Altea. Apparently this Zarkon fellow and these enemy aliens were the direct cause of the almost complete extinction of the Altean race.

Shiro and the rest of the team don’t really know what to say after that. There isn’t really anything anyone could say that could possibly make up for the loss of Allura and Coran’s friends, their family, their home planet, their entire civilization. 

If anything, it sharpens his resolve to fight against his previous captors, to do whatever he possibly could to prevent another society from falling at their hand like what had happened to the Alteans.  

The gloomy mood doesn’t cling for long, though, shaking loose as alarms went off, bright and loud and flashing- a warning that a ship of enemy aliens (apparently called the “Galra”) are on their way to...wherever the hell they are. 

Of  _ course _ Lance and Keith immediately start bickering over who’s at fault for it as if either one of them could possibly have been to blame, and Shiro has to physically step between them as they get in each other’s faces in five seconds flat. 

Shiro cares for his friend a great deal, but Keith’s temper has always been relatively quick to rise (regardless of much Keith denies it) and in the time between his rescue and now, it’s been made evident that Lance got under Keith’s skin in a way Shiro had never actually witnessed before, shortening Keith’s already short fuse to  _ miniscule. _

Despite the age difference, Keith had been one of Shiro’s quickest-made friends back at the Garrison. Sure, he was a senior officer at the time and Keith was a student, but they were different divisions, so there wasn’t any weird power dynamic shit going on there. Keith had just really needed someone to care about him and in return, had always been a good, solid friend to Shiro. 

Keith had fought it for a while, claiming he was a “lone wolf” and “didn’t need any friends,” but Shiro could see the hurt behind his eyes, had noticed how the other kids gave him a wide berth, had ostracized him in a way that panged at Shiro’s soft heart in the worst way. Shiro had refused to give up on Keith, and for his efforts, he’d gained a best friend almost on par with Matt. Keith was someone Shiro could always count on if he ever needed him (and if Matt was being a contrary ass), someone who didn’t laugh at Shiro’s propensity for the romantic, someone who immediately got his dry sense of humor and volleyed it back with ease, someone who just wanted to be friends with Shiro for  _ Shiro, _ not because he was some “legend” or because he was conventionally attractive.

Shiro isn’t the same person he was back then, and watching Keith move around Lance, listening to them argue, Shiro realizes that maybe Keith isn’t the same person he was either.  

He doesn’t have much time for the nostalgic melancholy wanting to creep in. They have to prepare for the Galra’s impending attack. Now is  _ not _ the ideal time for one of Keith and Lance’s explosive arguments. They only have two days to find the Lions the princess assigned to each of them. 

Of  _ course _ his Lion is already here at the castle, and of  _ course _ his Lion will be locked until the remaining three are found, leaving him a little helpless, so he takes the opportunity to go along with Pidge to find their Lion  _ and _ to catch up with them, to figure out what’s going on with them and why exactly they look like Matt. 

Shiro quickly assigns tasks like it’s second nature (because it really is), with Lance leaving with Hunk to find the yellow Lion, and Keith… Well, he didn’t like leaving Keith on his own, but there weren’t really any other options, were there?

\---

 

Keith silently thanks Shiro for making Lance go with Hunk. He knows the main reason is probably because Lance is currently the only one with a Lion, but still. He’s pretty sure that if he had been forced to be in relatively close quarters with Lance right now, it would result in them fighting again because that’s apparently what they do now. He almost prefered the days back at the Garrison when Lance would just kind of ignore him. Still, he couldn’t help his heart tripping over itself every time Lance gave him attention. (Yeah, he’s aware of how unhealthy that is.)

Lance has always just gotten under his skin like no one else has before. After years of learning how to keep to himself, both from the foster care upbringing and the cruelty of other kids at school, Keith likes to think he has a relatively decent temper (regardless of what CPS, Shiro and the Garrison might think). He knows how to shrug off bruises, both emotional and physical, no matter how much they hurt, and he knows how to ignore petty bullshit. Still, he doesn’t exactly handle it well when he’s being blamed for shit that could affect other people’s safety. 

He  _ knows _ he’s the reason why they went looking for Blue, and that led to the chain reaction that put them all where they are now- far from home and dropped right into imminent danger. And yet,  _ he _ didn’t actually get them caught on the other side of a wormhole, and he’s  _ not _ the only one to blame for everything that’s happened to get them here. Lance just likes to use him as a target for his frustration, kind of always has, and it digs at Keith.

It doesn’t help that Lance’s proximity flusters him. That Lance’s heat makes him want to curl into it and stay there as long as he’s allowed. That being able to count every lightly dusted freckle makes his breath catch. That being close enough to finally have the exact shade of Lance’s blue eyes named (prussian with flecks of green sea glass) makes the corners of Keith’s lips twitch up (which of course Lance mistakes for him being amused by Lance’s ire). That his lips being so close to Lance’s only makes Keith close the distance.

He shouldn’t even be thinking of Lance like that. It feels like the ultimate betrayal to his Soulmate.

...Who is back home, on Earth, an unknown amount of light years away. He pushes down the shock that rips through him, a delayed realization that slams into him so hard, it almost leaves him breathless with the force of it. 

The chatter going on in the background turns into white noise as the rest of his team leave for their respective missions.

Intellectually, he knew traveling through a wormhole would have consequences for them all- he remembered that Lance had a  _ huge _ family, had an inkling that Hunk probably did too, and while Shiro’s and Pidge’s families weren’t as numerous as Lance’s and Hunk’s, they still had multiple people back on Earth that mattered to them. They had a slew of good memories, and places to call home, and undoubtedly had a ton of material shit that held a lot of sentimental value to them. 

Everything but maybe one item of sentimental value he owned were sitting close to his person, in the bags on his utility belt and in the zippered liner pockets of his jacket. There’s only one thing, one  _ person, _ that truly ties him to Earth in any real way, and that’s his Soulmate. The fact that he just left them behind without a second thought makes him queasy.

He isn’t sure just how far the Soulmate Song bond thing could stretch, but he’s pretty sure being in a completely different corner of the  _ entire universe _ is a bit out of range. No more Spanish Songs unless  _ he _ sang them. No more cringeworthy sappy Songs. No more musical theater shit. No more J-pop or lullabies or pop punk he hasn’t actively listened to since he was a kid. No more reassurances that someone was out there for him. 

He turns on his heel, pacing angrily, facial expressions unchecked as Princess Allura and Coran look on worriedly. At this point, he doesn’t really care. At least the rest of the team was elsewhere.

Most of his life had been comprised of him needing to look after himself, to take care of his own shit, to have his own back, to defend himself, to be the rock no one else had provided for him, to be his own damn family. After he moved to the Garrison, he was still very much a lone wolf, but that was okay. There’s a distinct difference between being alone and being  _ lonely. _

The first, last and only time he’d tried branching out to his classmates for friendship, it bit him in the ass. Like he said before, he knew  _ exactly _ who Lance was. The guy was so open, so carefree, so extroverted and funny and charming and warm and everything Keith wasn’t, and Keith had just wanted to know more about the curious Cuban kid who seemed to be friends with  _ everyone. _

Well, everyone but Keith, apparently. 

Lance was so damned convinced that Keith was actively trying to one-up him, so sure they were meant to be rivals that he mistook the olive branch and genuine desire to get to know him as a thinly veiled threat, as a fucking cloak and dagger of sorts, and chewed him out in front of everyone for it. Keith had nursed one hell of a broken heart for a while.

After that, he’d learned to snap the shields he’d optimistically, childishly,  _ foolishly _ allowed himself to drop back into place, to keep to himself, and to stick with what he knew. Keeping people at an arm’s length or more, and never,  _ ever _ showing your hand.

Then came the surprise friendship with Shiro and tentative friendships with Matt and Katie Holt by proxy. 

Shiro was the only one who made sure he didn’t hole himself up in his dorm for too long. Matt came by to visit sometimes when Shiro was too busy, and Katie would always make sure to stop by to visit him when they visited their brother, but their interactions were always a bit more stilted, a bit more forced, but he’d appreciated the effort the Holts put in to make sure he was okay. 

Then Shiro and Matt had left for Kerberos. Then they’d officially gone missing. Then Katie got banned from the Garrison. Then some guy who looked  _ identical _ to Matt started coming around, and before Keith had gotten a real chance to talk to this ‘Pidge’ guy, he got expelled for “discipline issues.” Then he spent months alone in that isolated shack, slowly metamorphosing into an actual, real life, textbook recluse. Until last night, that is. 

Still, no matter what happened, no matter how alone he was all those months, he still had his Soulmate tucked into the back of his mind. He still had those damned Songs. In the privacy of his desert shack living, he was free to belt out whatever songs came to mind, hoping they might reach his other half. Sometimes random Songs hit him completely out of nowhere and he didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing him belt out a harmony part. No matter how hard life got, he was never actually alone.

Now, that was no longer true. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt truly  _ lonely. _

And for the first time in a long, long time, he sang in the hopes that maybe somewhere out there, his song would find his Soulmate.

\---

 

Shiro has never in his life been so damned happy to be able to talk to little Katie Holt.

He used the time he and Katie (he learned they didn’t mind him calling them that in private) spent walking through the lush forest of- whatever this planet was called- talking about their new look and name. He found out that no matter how hard Katie had fought to find out the truth about the Kerberos mission, no one would give them answers, and eventually got kicked off of the Garrison property and banned completely for their refusal to give up the search.

They’d immediately forged documentation, changed their name (he guesses he’ll just have to get used to calling them Pidge now, eh), and went through a dramatic overhaul on their appearance to be able to get back into the Garrison and find some answers. Apparently being a random guy who just happened to look like a carbon copy of Matt Holt was more plausible and believable than Katie Holt getting a haircut and donning some fake glasses. When he’d raised a disbelieving brow, they’d just smirked and reminded him of the fact that they’d been with the Garrison for almost a full year now and no one even questioned it. Hell, not even Hunk or Lance had said anything. Keith gave them a lot of side eye for the brief time they’d gone to school together, but never asked.

The whole point, Shiro found, was that Pidge was still looking for answers. They wanted to find their brother and father. They wanted their family back together. They wanted to be able to touch them again and make sure they’re okay. They needed to  _ know _ what happened.

Shiro understood that, and respected them for their determination. He vowed to help them as much as he could. 

When he and Pidge stumbled upon a sloth-man-person(?) at the edge of a river, they’d both tensed until they were lead to a canoe. Thank the gods Coran was right about their destination being peaceful. 

\---

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been traveling along this winding river, marveling at the flora and fauna that surrounded them, but at some point Shiro Sings.

At first, it startles him. He can’t remember the last time he Sang a Song. Maybe sometime during his captivity. Probably. He isn’t sure. Everything is still one big, hazy mess, now interspersed with little flickers of memories here and there, of Zarkon specifically, but he has no recollection of the goings on in his day-to-day life there. He doesn’t remember what happened to Matt. He doesn’t remember the other prisoners. He doesn’t know how or why he suddenly has an alien prosthetic. He doesn’t remember the faces of his captors. He doesn’t even remember anything he ate or how often he slept (or where) or whether or not he Sang. 

He does, however, remember almost every single Song he’s Sung over the years before Kerberos. Some were ballads, some were lullabies, some were simple, little folksy tunes, some were just bits and pieces of a particular song, and some were full arias. He’s Sung about love and loss and hope and dreams and despair and one memorable time,  _ Thundercats. _

This particular time, though, it’s just a snippet from an old Adele song. The lyrics set a heavy, depressing counterpoint to the light, buoyant mood he (and probably Pidge as well, considering the bright, beaming smile on their face) felt.

_ “Never mind, I'll find someone like you. I wish nothing but the best for you. Don't forget me, I beg. I'll remember you said, ‘Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.’” _

He furrows his brows as the Singing stops after that. His Soulmate has to be sad to sing  _ this _ of all songs. At least, that’s what he assumes based on how  _ he _ sings. 

Most of the time, he works through an entire song he’s really into or just has stuck in his head. The only time he really only sings just little snippets of songs is when he knows literally none of the other lyrics, or when he’s just  _ feeling _ a lot. He usually has a tight lock on his emotions, controlled and tempered in a way that allows him to compartmentalize and bottle his emotions for a later date. 

Sometimes the best release is to just sing a verse or a chorus or a bridge that relates so perfectly to the state of your emotions.

When he looks up, Pidge is looking at him with an expression somewhere between uncomfortable and concerned. He doesn’t even know what to say so he just reassures them that  _ he’s _ fine, and that hopefully his Soulmate is fine too wherever they are. Pidge relaxes but for the slight tension in their brow and the sympathy shining through their eyes. Shiro sits back and hopes that whatever’s going on with his Soulmate, that they’ll be fine too.

The contemplative silence eventually lifts when even more local fauna pop up and into the trees lining the river, chirping excitedly as they dance and sway around the entrance to the tunnel leading to the Green Lion. 

“I wonder if Lance and Hunk are having as good a time as us,” Pidge wonders, smiling, and Shiro reflects it.

“I bet they’re having a blast.”

\---

It’s not much later than Pidge finds their Lion, bursting out of a mountain of tree roots and thick, alien vines, and Shiro’s so proud of them, he feels like he could burst too.

\---

 

When Coran had said “peaceful,” Lance had expected to find a planet with actual peace, not one whose fighter jets immediately try to blow his Lion, and subsequently him and Hunk, to  _ pieces. _

He and Hunk are screaming in panic, but with a little guidance and a helping hand (foot? paw?) from Blue, he skillfully dodges lasers and missiles alike. That is, until one unchecked target-seeking missile catches them on his left side, sending them careening down toward the rock-solid ground. Thank  _ fuck _ for Blue’s smooth pivot point and her foot boosters or they would’ve been toast. 

Of  _ course _ they’re somehow  _ above _ the Yellow Lion. Lance has to quite literally drop Hunk off so his best friend can grab his Lion before Lance whips around, using every maneuver he’d only ever studied in fighter class books to minimize the damage Blue’s taking from the enemy's heavy fire. He uses Blue’s tail laser and her powerful, robot Lion jaw to take down jet by jet by jet, but they just keep  _ coming. _

He’s trying his absolute level best not to, you know,  _ die _ out here when all of a sudden, across millions and millions of light years (maybe even billions? He’s not sure. He needs an accurate map of the universe to figure out distance calculations)-  _ Anyway. _ Somewhere across the universe, his Soulmate seems to think  _ now _ is a good time to sing. 

He immediately feels like a dickhead when he recognizes the last chorus from “Someone Like You” by Adele. If there was background music played, he’d recognize it from the very first chord. This was his Tío Patricio’s number three favorite song, right behind her rendition of “Make You Feel My Love” (really though, that was his wedding song, so he was probably biased) and “Sweetest Devotion.” Adele was his absolute, hands down, bar none,  _ favorite _ singer, and his Tía Maria went on an Adele-infused bender for  _ weeks _ after he died. Considering her repertoire of heartbreaking songs, it had been  _ terrible, _ the grief everyone felt compounded by the sadness and loss pouring from the cracks of his Tía’s door overlaid by her agonized wailing. Lance still chokes up every time he thinks of that time.

He feels tears burn trails down his cheeks as he Sings. He attacks the next wave of enemies with renewed vigor, emotionally overwhelmed and stressed to the high heavens and more than ready to get back to the Castle to maybe find somewhere horizontal to lie down for a good hour or twelve. 

He’s not sure how long he’s fought so far, but at some point, the tears stop falling and the enemy jets turn their attention to the only entrance/exit to the cave, shooting it to oblivion and trapping his best friend beneath this planet’s surface. He yells in dismay, praying to God that Hunk can somehow make it out of there before Lance reaches a point where he and Blue literally can’t do anything more.

\---

Blue’s critical level warnings are flashing, and she’s hunched over and struggling to stand up to her full height as more missiles barrel toward them. Lance is panicked, trying to will her into moving faster so he doesn’t actually die today when Hunk and Yellow quite literally tear through this planet’s crust, shielding him from possible death. Then Yellow does this hilarious (but badass) belly flop thing where it takes out the rest of the enemies, and Lance relaxes for the first time in what feels like far, far too long.

Of course that’s when a shitload of other jets pop up. He sends another prayer to the Lord, this time in thanks for Allura’s impeccable timing as she beckons them back to the castle. 

He and Hunk make an about-face, only sighing in relief when they hightail it (haha, get it?) through the wormhole.

\---

When Lance finally makes it back to everyone else with Hunk in tow, they’re both fucking beat.

Lance even more so what with the emotional heaviness still weighing him down. He feels heavier altogether, like the sorrow and nostalgia cling to his bones and his heartstrings, and he wants to let the pull drag him to the floor for a well-deserved nap.

Still, he’s got a job to do, and being a Debby Downer isn’t it. He throws out a few complaints about the difficulty of the mission before forcing himself to straighten to his full height, stretching his body. He relishes in the cracks and pops as his spine realigns, and tries to visualize some of the emotional turmoil popping and realigning too. 

(He misses the way Keith’s eyes volley back and forth between the strip of skin peeking from under his shirt to, well, literally anywhere  _ but _ Lance’s body, and he definitely misses the way Shiro’s face his swivels toward him, swallowing when Lance groans in contentment, but Shiro’s eyes are hyperfocused on a point over his shoulder. He also misses Pidge’s unimpressed look and Hunk’s grimace and both Princess Allura’s and Coran’s bemused curiosity.)

When his back no longer feels tight and painful, and his heart only feels mildly bruised and battered, he relaxes, making a show of shaking himself loose before looking around, his gaze freezing on person in particular. 

Everyone else is going on about the Red Lion and location and strategy and whatnot, but Lance is only paying maybe 40% of his attention to it, so caught up by  _ Keith, _ of all people. And no, it’s not because he’s beautiful.  _ (Whaaat? _ Just shoot him. Please.)

No, what’s caught Lance’s attention are the signs of crying written all over Mr. Mullet’s face and body language. Even from maybe twenty feet away, Lance could see it plain as day. 

Maybe no one else would even notice- quickly glancing at everyone else’s focused, fight-ready faces (except Hunk’s, which is anxiety-laden and maybe a little nauseous), Lance is gonna go with a ‘yeah, that’s a no.’ Maybe they just weren’t as well-versed in what the ‘I just cried a metric fuckton of tears not too long ago, but I’m gonna hide it and pretend everything’s fine’ face looked like, but having not only a twin sister but also four other siblings, he’s practically a master at it. 

No one else seems to see the puffiness and the deeper, bitten-red color in Keith’s lips or the weird tightness in his skin or the tension around his eyes and pretty much the rest of his whole body. One would probably chalk it up to getting ready for the impending fight, but Keith looks more like he’s curling inward on himself rather than shifting to his usual fight stance. Also, either no one else notices or everyone else ignores the quiet, little sniffles and the occasional thick swallow.

Despite the fact that Keith is his Enemy No. 1 (or maybe he can be bumped down to No. 2 now what with the Galra taking first place), his archrival, and almost a personified crime against fashion, Lance isn’t completely heartless. In fact, he’d go as far as to say that his heart is sometimes too big for his body. Something breaks in him a little at seeing someone as impenetrable (at least in terms of softer emotions) as Keith Kogane looking so damn sad, and he feels a disconcerting urge to hug the everloving hell out of the other man.

Which- ew. Nuh-uh. No. No? Mayb-  _ No. _ Unless Keith was okay with hugs. And probably not even then. Lance internally groans at himself and his Cuban upbringing. Growing up, a lot could be cured with a warm blanket, a mug of atole, and big, tight hugs. It was a powerhouse combo that usually did the trick, but he honestly doesn’t know Keith like that. He definitely doesn’t think Keith would be down for the good, ole fashioned Cubano Cure due to how Keith only seems to vacillate between apathy and being a prickly asshole. Lance vaguely wonders if Keith would actually hiss at him if he ever tried.

And regardless, he shouldn’t want to comfort his archrival anyway, no matter what the itch in his palms has to say about it. So, he isn’t going to say anything. He’ll keep an eye on the guy, sure- to make sure he’s not up to something fishy! (But okay, alright, sure. Also to make sure Keith’s okay. You can’t blame Lance for having a soft spot for tears.)

He kind of snaps back into focus when he realizes how silent everything’s gotten, and realizes he’s been caught staring at Keith (who’s now blushing oh my  _ god, _ has he always been this cute? [Shut  _ up, _ self]) and he tries to distract from his own flush with a blinding smile, opening his mouth to blame his spaciness on a lack of beauty sleep when all of a sudden everything flickers. On what he thought was a window, one of those furry, purple Galra bad guys pops up, complete with a Bond villain eye patch and a severe frown, demanding they turn over all of their Lions  _ or else. _

Once the screen cuts out and returns to its default window setting, Hunk promptly just about loses his shit just as Lance has expected, panicking about this threat of a Galra battleship headed their way. Pidge, as usual, does nothing to help  _ that. _

Princess Allura (and wasn’t that name  _ apt) _ cuts in, mentioning the ship’s particle barrier, and he can’t resist the temptation to flirt with her- only to be cut off by Shiro’s stern voice. (And what the shit.  _ Why _ does he find  _ that _ hot?)

After the team runs through each other’s ideas of how to proceed, it’s a shock to absolutely no one ever that Keith wants to go with the suicide mission route. They (yet again) argue head to head (almost literally) over whether to flee or fight, and  _ Cristos, _ were Keith’s eyes always this shade of violet? He swallows thickly only when Keith’s running his stupid mouth, revitalized by the way Keith’s proximity only amps him up, and he’s fully ready to keep this going until he yells Keith into submission. Shut it. It’s a good plan.

That is, until Shiro uses that fucking  _ voice _ on them all, not just Lance and Keith, and that’s when he realizes that everyone else had joined in the bickering too.  _ Huh. _

Shiro takes the decision completely out of any of their hands, instead handing it to the princess, who, after a conversation with (the VI hologram version of) her father,  _ of course, _ decides that they’re going to fight for Red. 

Whatever, he didn’t want to live past the age of 17 anyway. Fuck it. YOLO.

\---

 

Keith’s blood runs cold the first time he sees that Galra pop up onto the screen. 

He remembers countless dreams growing up of tall, strong, furry, purple aliens exploring space. He remembers the sharp teeth and the yellow eyes and  _ claws. _ He remembers drawing after drawing of his dream friend growing up (and an errant stray thought wonders if any of his fosters ever kept them). He remembers dreaming about, about a-a  _ Galra. _ What the hell?

What he doesn’t understand is how his unconscious mind knew about these creatures as a kid before he actually, consciously  _ knows _ about these creatures now. 

Regardless of the amount of confusing questions filling his head, these Galra are an obvious threat, laying waste to countless peoples for over 10,000 years now. They need to fight. They need to do  _ something _ to help make things right in this universe. He shoves aside his jumbled thoughts to deal with another time as the big guys panics yet again.

They  _ need _ his Lion- they can’t form Voltron without it- and Lance- ridiculous, adorable, scaredy-cat fucking  _ Lance- _ wants to run “to live another day” and it sparks an indignant anger in him so great that they’re back to arguing. Again. Good god, it’s no wonder the guy thinks of him as his “archrival” if the only way they can communicate is by fighting. Still, what’s done is done and he sends thanks to every god he no longer believes in that the princess wants to fight too.

\---

Keith  _ really _ needs Lance to stop looking at him like that. 

Lance seems to think he doesn’t see the vaguely half-concerned, half-perpetually annoyed (only with him,  _ always _ only with him) look on his face every time he glances at Keith, but he does. A few times, it even looks like Lance is going to say something to him, but he always clams back up and keeps walking as they follow the princess to the armory. 

He thought he’d done a pretty good job of hiding the fact that he’d cried earlier, but maybe his skills are slipping? He isn’t sure. 

What he  _ is _ sure about is the fact that Lance had also cried earlier for some reason, judging by the dried tear tracks and the dull sheen in his eyes, so Keith isn’t sure why Lance is looking at him like  _ he _ needs comfort or something. Keith chokes down the question,  _ ‘are you okay?’ _ as they’re walked through the Volton basics, given the title of Paladins and given armor to go with it.

He’s only mildly jealous that Shiro doesn’t have the same hesitation he has in asking. He focuses on suiting up as he eavesdrops.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Some shit went down when we were getting Yellow, but it’s cool now.” Lance smiles, blushing up at Shiro, and Keith turns away so that neither are in his periphery. It’s not quite jealousy, but it’s also not quite... _ not. _ He wishes he could just talk to Lance with the ease Shiro has with pretty much everyone, and he wishes Shiro could see him as more than just his kid friend. He kind of wishes his Soulmate was out here with him so these two crushes could just die out. That would be pretty nice.

He shakes himself off as they’re given their bayards. Hunk’s is a beast of a weapon, a minigun that would undoubtedly tear through droves of Galra enemies. He can’t help the look of wonder that comes over his face as it transforms into a sword, a shield popping up at his other wrist like an actual  _ knight _ or something. His mouth twitches over a fond smile in the face of Lance’s excitement as his turns into a rifle. Pidge’s is small, reminiscent of a bladed set of brass (re: green) knuckles. Lance makes fun of him (them? Keith’s still not convinced Pidge isn’t Katie) for it and is promptly electrocuted for his shit talking. Keith shares an approving smile with Pidge as he gets a feel for his sword.

He frowns when it’s announced that Shiro doesn’t have a bayard, somewhere lost with the previous black paladin, but Shiro just shrugs it off, calm and collected like he always is. Still, he doesn’t like the weird feeling of his friend being left out, so he sympathetically pats Shiro’s shoulder with a small smile, his heart tripping over itself when Shiro mirrors it.

\---

According to Pidge, Hunk and Lance, he’s going to  _ feel _ his Lion like he had with the blue one. He can only hope he can earn its respect. If he doesn’t, he’ll fail (literally) everyone.

\---

Keith hopes he never sees this look on Shiro’s face again. He’s also not so willfully ignorant as to believe he won’t.

They’re in the Galra ship, and in one of the hallways hopefully leading to the red Lion when Shiro freezes. Keith’s never seen Shiro blanch like this before, his face pallid and fallen, his eyes dull and unfocused. His whole body goes lax for a few seconds before coming back, flinching back with a low cry. A memory trigger.

Shiro explains that he’s somehow been here before, and then suddenly Keith is watching Pidge and Shiro fight about rescuing prisoners. Everything’s tense and while Keith wishes they could save everyone too, it’s just not a possibility. He agrees with Shiro that in war, hard choices have to made and then-

And then Keith’s suspicions are confirmed. It  _ is _ Katie, and Shiro has to know that too because he doesn’t put up much of a fight when they decide they’re going to find their dad and brother. 

Keith watches as Shiro’s gaze volleys between them for a moment before Keith says, “go.”

“What?” Shiro asks, his face regretful, but he’s already taking steps toward the direction in which Pidge stomps off. 

“Go on. I should be fine.” He says uncertainly, and Shiro stops, clapping a hand on his shoulder as his eyes dance over Keith’s, and  _ wow, _ is Keith glad most of his face is covered by a tinted visor.

“Just remember: Patience yields focus, so-” and then they’re cut off by a light shining at the end of the hall.  _ Galra. _

Keith breaths deep, unwilling to let the fear overtake him as they split and make a run for it in opposite directions.

\---

 

Shiro’s face drops as he and Pidge open cell after cell only to find neither Matt nor Dr. Holt. A slew of alien prisoners, but neither of the people they’re looking for. 

And when he steps forward to ease everyone’s minds, one of them, with his tone full of admiration, calls him “the Champion.” He has absolutely no idea what the hell that means, but it immediately fills every one of the captives’ eyes with wonder. It’s disconcerting and leaves an ache, a pulling in the back of in his mind, like trying to remember something he’s never known, but he’d take it for now if it meant that everyone’s on board with making a quick and orderly escape.

\---

 

By the time Keith finds his Lion, he’s sweating like a sinner in church, having run circles and getting lost in the almost indistinguishable hallways trying to find the damned thing. 

It wasn’t until he actually used Shiro’s advice to slow down, exercising a bit of patience and focus that he felt the pull in his mind. It was so damn similar to the pull of the blue Lion that a wave of  _ deja vu _ hits him. This time, though, the pull is stronger, easier to follow, somehow fits him better. It was like the blue Lion’s pull was off, a few sizes too small and a little too loose in the shoulders. He doesn’t even know how else to explain it. The red Lion’s call just fits him right.

He didn’t think it would be easy to earn Red’s respect, but  _ damn. _ He didn’t think he’d have to actually get  _ shot _ and sucked out into space for his Lion to accept him. He’s just glad his shield caught that bullet instead of his stomach.

“Good kitty,” he says with a smirk. “Let’s roll.”

\---

 

Shiro isn’t going to panic. He is  _ not _ going to panic. 

Okay, maybe he’s already panicking. He’s staring in shock as his metal arm glows, heating up with an electric shock to his system. The world around him drops to a muted muffle, a ringing building in his ears as the glow intensifies.

He doesn't even think as his instincts overtake him, his body on autopilot as his arm blocks laser blaster hits with ease, literally cutting through Galra sentry bots like a hot knife through butter. It takes little effort to take down the five robots, and as amazing as Pidge and the captives, tucked safely into their escape pod, think it is, it scares the hell out of Shiro. 

He has no idea where he learned to fight like that. He still has no recollection of how he even lost his real arm. The flashes of memory he’d had back in the hallway had just been about the sentry bots themselves and the general layout of the ship they’re on, not anything more personal. His jaw clenches in frustration as they head out.

\---

His heart feels lighter knowing Keith is okay, unharmed and whole and perfect (perfect?) and breathing and  _ okay. _ The Galra hadn’t gotten him. Knots of tension Shiro hadn’t even realize had collected in his neck and shoulders loosen, and he breathes easier knowing the best friend he has out here is alive and well.

He hadn’t wanted to leave his friend back there to find his Lion on his own, but Keith had insisted, eyes dancing to Pidge significantly, and really, Shiro was the only one who knew his way around the ship anyway. It was a good call, but still. 

Now that they’re back at the castle with all four of the other Lions, it’s finally his turn to meet Black, and as he stands in her incredible, jaw-dropping(ly huge) presence, he feels the link between them instantly snap into place.

It almost feels like the Soulmate bond. The back of his mouth feels more pressurized and there’s a tug from within, but rather than the weak, flickering pull from his heart he’s been blessed to feel from time to time, it’s a constant weak, flickering pull from his mind as soon as she accepts him. He’ll just have to work on strengthening the bond when he has the time. 

For now, he’s dizzy with the relief that they can form this  _ Voltron _ and finally take out this Galra battleship.

\---

“Listen up, Team Voltron! The only way to succeed is to give it all you’ve got. This looks bad, but we can  _ do _ this. Are you with me?” Shiro asks, intense and determined, and feels heartened when the team responds, well...their response is a little awkward, and for the gods’ sake, they have no clue what they’re doing.

They’re getting relentlessly shot at by a contingent of fighter jets. Pidge takes one of them down with their Lion’s mouth. Hunk slams into Keith in a failed attempt to form Voltron. Shiro figures flying in formation might help and worries when nothing happens for a few seconds.

And then they’re all feeling a pull, similar to the bond with their Lions, but more... _ inward. _ It’s like a magnet forcing them toward a central point and they all just go with it. It’s all a mess, but there’s nothing to do but to go with the flow. 

That is, until Shiro looks up and sees they’re being pulled into a tractor beam. Damn it.

Shiro’s still not 100% sure how they do it, but it isn’t until they’re almost at the mouth of the ship that the team’s fear sharpens. With another one of his patented motivational pep talks, their fear hones into a determination that resurges tenfold, pulling them all into a collective focus. They’re the universe’s only hope, after all. They  _ have _ to do this. They cannot and  _ will not _ fail.

And then, they form Voltron. Shiro subtly exhales the breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

It’s probably one of the weirdest, most impressive, most satisfying things that’s ever happened to him to date. To all of them, really, but as Shiro sits at the head of this  _ massive _ alien robot weapon, acting as the leader of the Paladins of Voltron, Shiro feels like he could fly (which is humorous considering they already are).

It’s all extremely tense, but the “battle,” if you can call it that, is actually rather quick. Things tend to run a lot faster than it feels in the moment, but each one of them works together as a cohesive unit, tearing the cannon from the Galra ship, their blasts tearing straight through thousands, possibly  _ millions _ of pounds of metal and tech, and setting off an explosion that takes off the the entire bow. The entire battleship explodes in a blooming cloud of fire, ash and raining metal.

And then it’s over. Thank the gods it’s over.

\---

 

_ Thank  _ fuck _ that’s over, _ Lance thinks as he pops his helmet off.

Okay, so...sure, he was scared as shit before  _ and _ during the big boss battle, but if you didn’t think that fight was the tightest shit, you could get out of Lance’s face. Like really, did you see him? He was a leg.  _ A giant, ass-kicking, robotic Lion-leg. _ And they just kicked all sorts of Galra ass.

He feels  _ electric, _ still riding the last wave of adrenaline. Ain’t nothin’ could bring him down right now. He’s flirting with the princess, he’s beaming away, he’s feeling fucking  _ good, _ and turns to see if the others’ faces look as goofy as his feels. 

Hunk is laid out on the floor like the dink he is, but even from here, Lance can tell he’s excited too by the similar goofy grin poking out from the helmet he still hasn’t taken off. Pidge is a little more subdued, but he’s bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet.

And then Shiro is talking about how well they did, a gentle smile settling on Keith as Mullet Man takes his helmet off. Lance sees the fond smile reflected back at Shiro from the side of Keith’s face, and suddenly Lance’s adrenaline feels more like nausea when a sickening wave of jealousy colors his mood. He’s not even sure why or how he could be jealous...and of who? Shiro? Keith? Probably Keith, since Shiro’s Lance’s hero, but like...part of him feels a little jealous of Shiro too, and it’s honestly doing Lance’s head in. 

For one, he’s straight. He thinks. Probably. Maybe…?  _ Shit. _ For two, he  _ knows _ Shiro and Keith have been friends for a while, so this little exchange shouldn’t have sent such a dramatic jolt through him. 

It was always something he was envious of back at the Garrison before the Kerberos mission, their friendship. Seeing Shiro and Keith look at each other so affectionately even now, even after all this time, after the weirdness that had to have been the last year for them, even though they couldn’t possibly be the same people after the shit they’ve gone through. The depth of how much they care for each other was still there, plain as day. And it looks a little more than platonic. And Lance doesn’t want to acknowledge why it sours his mood. 

Still, Lance wouldn’t be Lance if he didn’t keep up his light, devil-may-care attitude, so instead of letting his smile grow wooden (or even worse, fall completely), he cranks it up a notch. When Shiro tells Pidge they’d definitely help find his brother and father (which,  _ what? What the hell did he miss?), _ he keeps smiling, nodding along with everyone else.

He keeps the smile glued on his face as they’re labeled the Defenders of the Universe. He keeps the smile glued on his face when they disarm themselves. He keeps the smile glued on his face until he’s given a room.

\---

Behind closed doors, his face drops, blanches, and he lets the bi (or poly or pan?) panic wash over him, lets it consume him for exactly thirty seconds before shaking it off. 

You’d think sexuality panic would be worse for a guy who’s only flirted with women since puberty, but Lisa’s pansexual. She talked to him about it all as her feelings and attraction for people moved on from just men, to men and women, to learning about other genders and non-genders and transgender people and Lisa had realized one day that literally none of that mattered to her. She doesn’t care about what’s in someone’s pants, and she thinks every gender expression is beautiful, so the day she finally sat everyone down and came out as pan, literally no one (except maybe Abuelita) was surprised.

Contrary to Lisa’s approach at her sexuality, Lance had never really thought too hard about it. He just knew that he loves the ladies. They’re beautiful and soft and warm and smell  _ so _ damn good, but as Lance lets himself think about men (not any specific men in particular. Nope. Not at all), he thinks about how certain men are also beautiful. Like holy-shit-take-my-breath-away beautiful, and while their bodies might not be full of soft curves, their hair and their skin and their lips sure as hell look soft, and Lance  _ knows _ that men are also warm (duh), and have you smelled Kei-  _ men? _ Thinking back, there’s a certain underlying musk to men that kinda makes Lance’s toes curl.  _ Huh. _ Maybe he’s more bi than he thought.

And really, what’s there to panic about? He still loves the ladies, but this just opens up the possibility for me-

_ What if his Soulmate is a man?! _ His mind screeches suddenly, and Lance is halfway certain the music from “A Whole New World” starts playing in the background of his mind. He hopes to  _ Dios _ that he makes it back to Earth to meet him/her. 

While Lance has to adjust to the possibility that boobs and a pussy might not be in his future, he finds that the idea of  _ being with _ a guy does  _ not _ disgust him. At all. Not even remotely. (And holy shit, how did he not know this about himself before? Stupid, thrilling, sexy Keith and hot, wonderful, breathtaking Shiro. Goddamn it.) 

Discovering what  _ that _ would be like would be a whole new world. Unbelievable sights and indescribable feeling, indeed. (Okay, so any sex would be a whole new world for Lance, but whatever. Shut up.) 

And now the damn song is stuck in his head, and he knows it won’t stop playing in a loop until he sings it out of his system. 

Thank  _ Dios _ for ancient Altean, soundproof rooms.

\---

 

Keith is just turning in for the night, exhausted and a bit sorrowful and a lot overwhelmed by the turn of events over the last twenty-four hours crashing over him, when it happens.

He  _ Sings. _

He isn’t sure  _ how _ he Sings when a lump builds in his throat so instantly that he feels choked, and there are tears are running down his face (and snot too. Ew), and he feels at once like he can’t catch his breath and like his chest is hyperinflated. He’s so...god, he doesn’t even know if only one word can be used to describe the way he feels. 

Dizzyingly relieved. Bubbling with excitement. Ecstatic. Radiant. Amused. Still a little sorrowful.

Because of  _ course _ they’re singing  _ “A Whole New World.” _ For fuck’s sake, if that isn’t apt. 

Still, it’s immediately apparently that he hasn’t lost the one thing he has back on Earth. He hasn’t lost his other half. He hasn’t lost his Soulmate. 

He’s so overcome with the onslaught of his feelings, he’s not even sure whose part he’s singing when it gets to the part where there’s harmonizing vocals. He could be Aladdin. He could be Jasmine. He doesn’t care as long as he knows that on the other side of this bond, his Soulmate is singing with him.

\---

 

Shiro lays in his new bed, his home for the foreseeable future, and smiles as his mouth involuntarily curls around the lyrics of his favorite Disney song. He’s just glad his Soulmate isn’t sad anymore, and the message of the song, unwittingly to his Soulmate, makes him ache for the person on the other end of their bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there's only one translation for this chapter:  
> Dios - God


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder of a few things:  
> 1\. This story is unbetaed (lol).  
> 2\. Haha means mother, and Chichi means father, in Japanese.  
> 3\. A Chancla is a flip-flop/slipper.

One of these days, Keith is going to  _ strangle _ Lance, and no one will be surprised. 

He’s in the middle of this damned invisible maze and of  _ course _ he doesn’t get paired with people he knows won’t fuck with him. No, he has to rely on  _ Lance _ to get him through this maze without getting shocked to hell. Keith hopes that Coran has dentistry skills hidden up his sleeve because Keith’s very much worried about the state of his teeth with how hard they’re grinding right now.

Every time Lance gives him another instruction, Keith hears the amusement in his voice, and it only ramps up to obvious laughter each time he runs into the wall. 

He’s vaguely worried for the state of his heart too. For one, he’s pretty sure electric shocks running through his body at semi-regular intervals can’t be doing anything good for him. For two, every time Lance purposefully slams him into 10,000 volts, it hurts his damn  _ feelings _ too. Ugh.

He really shouldn’t be surprised at this point. This has to be the third time they’ve done this this week, and every time, they start out okay. Keith usually (foolishly) thinks  _ this _ time will be the time they can finally work together cohesively, but of course it doesn’t last. Either Lance makes a mistake in his directions which pisses Keith off which ends in them fighting yet again, or Lance gets bored and decides Keith is as good as any outlet for it.

Keith just wants to be Lance’s friend, to end this damned ‘rivalry’ and know what it’s like to be on the other end of one of Lance’s big, bright grins, or see the flush suffuse over that tan skin up close like Shiro gets to, or to be able to shoot the shit with Lance like he’s seen him do with Hunk and Pidge, or  _ maybe _ be on the other end of Lance’s ridiculous flirting, or to even just be able to sit together in relatively close proximity without it ending up in a squabble. Damn.

Keith’s brow dips into a furrow, his angry frown growing more wistful with each reminder of everything he can’t seem to have with Lance when ZAP! Right into the fucking wall again, and when he catches his breath, he sends a furious glare in the general direction of Lance behind the glass of the observation deck. Keith can only imagine the cackling from Lance and the disapproval from Coran. If Keith could have stormed out of there, he would, but alas. He’s stuck in this cursed maze until Lance decides to get his head out of his ass and actually be a decent team member, or until either Coran, Allura or maybe even Shiro calls it quits. 

It’s almost like he wills it into existence because a familiar voice sounds over the speakers.

“Lance, that’s enough,” Shiro says stern and authoritative and  _ hot, _ and Keith forgets to breathe for a moment as it shoots an unexpected thrill through his system. For God’s sake, he needs to get a grip on himself. 

He swallows thickly, beating a hasty retreat when the invisible walls disappear. 

\---

A knock on his door later is a fucking reprieve as it cuts through the nonstop circumlocutory chatter in his mind. He opens the door with a smile, thinking it would be Shiro or maybe anyone  _ else _ but the person standing here in front of him.

Lance seems surprised, by what Keith didn’t know, but his jaw actually drops for a moment before the moment is over, leaning against Keith’s doorframe, arms crossed casually with his lips stretching to his usual, ever-present douchey smirk.

“Apparently I’m supposed to tell you I’m sorry for zapping the crap out of you back there, so sorry,” and Keith would have been more surprised if Lance’s tone was anything even remotely close to sincere. 

Still, Keith’s a little too tired to rise to the obvious bait, and he just wants to move on from all this bullshit, so he just says, “it’s fine. Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“That’s it? It’s fine?” Lance responds incredulously, indignantly, his arms dropping to wave around like a madman, like he can’t possibly fathom that Keith wants to be the mature one here. (Which is hilarious because Keith is the  _ only _ mature one between the two of them.)

“Yeah. It’s fine. Is there something else you needed or…?” 

“I… Well, lunch is ready, so,” and Lance cuts off when Keith nudges him out of his room. 

And if Keith’s heart skips a beat when Lance when he keeps in step with him, he refuses to acknowledge it.

\---

 

Later, they’re hooked up some mind meld helmets or something, and Lance is sweating. 

He really doesn’t want anyone else rooting around in his head. This is the second round in a row that they’re doing this, and Lance has only been able to thank Dios that no one caught the errant  _ ‘fuck, Keith looks so hot when he’s mad’ _ thought (or the even more embarrassing  _ ‘fuck, Shiro looks so hot when he’s giving me the dad face’), _ before they’re thrown in again. 

It’s honestly the weirdest sensation Lance has ever felt. It’s not quite physical, but it  _ feels _ like it, like an echo of feeling inside your brain? It’s like the anticipation of touch, but never actually being close enough to connect. Like being able to see the people around you in your mind, but it’s like looking through thick, frosted glass, unable to make out anything beyond vague outlines of people and splotches of color. Like hearing a low, muffled conversation through an uninsulated wall. Like knowing what something would smell like if you just weren’t cut off from it. 

Every so often, though, things would slam into his mind in completely clarity. For example, Hunk eating his space goo this morning, but it isn’t just a visual. It was a full-body experience like  _ Lance _ is the one in Hunk’s body. He has no control of the movements (obvious, since it’s a memory), but he can look around, look down at “his” arms, much darker and stronger than his own. “He’s” suddenly a bit taller, a bit more thickly built, and when “he” eats the goo, his mind immediately recoils at the texture in a way he didn’t in his real body. “He” can smell it and feel the echo of what Hunk thought about  _ that _ too. 

It’s fascinating only in the sense that they’re able to see each other’s 4-D memories. It’s terrifying because he doesn’t know what would happen if any of  _ his _ recent memories popped into the wrong head.

He’s got a lot of ammunition if it went to, well...anyone, really. Hunk might be his bro for life, but he also knows Hunk is a gossip in the highest, and would  _ live _ to tease Lance about his developing appreciation for the curve of Keith’s ass and the way Shiro’s scar is more noticeable when he’s blushing. And Pidge! Pidge is almost arguably worse. He’d tease Lance to kingdom come and make endless little remarks in front of them, or give Lance unsolicited opinions on the state of his mind or the hopelessness of both potential crushes (in which he’d have to tell Pidge to shut it because there are no  _ feelings _ involved. They’re just hot, okay?  _ God, _ Pidge).

“What the hell, Lance.” The boy in question says flatly  _ out loud, _ and Lance would like to die, please and thank you. Forget what he said the other day about wanting to live another day. He can only imagine what filtered into Pidge’s consciousness. 

“What?” He says innocently as he opens his eyes, content to just going to play it off. 

“Goddamn it. Seriously, guys?” Keith growls, and Hunk just groans. Lance can relate.

It’s not like they were really getting anywhere with this exercise, so Lance doesn’t really know what the issue is. Plus, he just really wants out of there ASAP.

“We’re supposed to work together, to strengthen the bonds with one another. Cut the chatter,” Shiro commands, and Lance can think of a certain bond or two he’d like to strengthen with that fine piece of ass.

“Oh my god, Lance,” Hunk laughs, and Lance is so done.

“If you take that helmet off right now, I’m going to kick your ass,” Keith glares, but there’s not much heat to it. Like maybe a matchstick flame’s worth rather than the usual wildfire directed at Lance. 

Still, he doesn’t mention anything about Lance’s embarrassing thoughts, so maybe only Hunk got that bullet for his arsenal. He chances a glance at Shiro and he’s probably at a six on the Dad Face scale (yes, there’s a scale for it, thank you), but there’s no deep flush and his eyes aren’t averted like they usually do when he’s uncomfortable, so Lance is pretty sure he’s safe. Well, as safe as possible with Hunk (and possibly Pidge) having shit on him. Ugh.

“Alright, Lady Locks, don’t get your panties in a twist,” Lance says with an eye roll. He takes a deep, steadying breath before giving in to the tug of the connection.

They do moderately better this time. It takes a full  _ minute _ before they go unfocused, but not before Lance picks up a thread of music from Shiro (either the man is a sappy romantic or his Soulmate is. He’s willing to bet it’s the former considering the general contentment surrounding the stray thought rather than the sharper, more blinding happiness that comes with thinking about Soulmates [at least, it’s like that for Lance, so who knows? Maybe Shiro is just generally more mild]). Anyway, he picks up on a few things. Shiro’s an emotional wreck under the cool, calm, collected veneer, and  _ wow, _ does that one shock Lance. Hunk misses real food (which does  _ not _ shock Lance) and wonders if this planet or any future ones they’ll visit will have better, more real food. Pidge is clearly either a twin or his little sister looks a lot like him, but that one was confusing because it was almost like he  _ was _ his sister or something? Lance doesn't know; it’s all a confusing mess. 

Keith...the flash of memory Lance gets shakes him even more than Shiro’s burst of emotional outpouring. Shiro, Lance could understand. The man has just gone through an entire year of being a Galra prisoner. Clearly, some shit went down to earn him that bionic arm. Lance can only guess how much stress the older man’s body took to give him that shock of white hair. And that scar. It was rather deep for a facial scar, and pink, and jagged at certain points. That had to have been awful. Not to mention the whole memory loss issue. That would screw Lance up too. But  _ Keith. _

Keith’s memory was more like a skipping disc of a collection of bullshit. Lance only caught onto a few little things. Backing away with tears on his face, singing an old country song, from a frankly  _ terrifying _ woman- Mommy Beth? Whatever. She was looming over him and she was going on about how he was a sinner or something before it skipped to Keith’s little face snapping to the side, very obviously having been hit by a man who was supposed to look after him. Then it shifted to a memory of being  _ maybe _ eight, some asshole woman getting in his face about how he’s much too old for anyone to actually want him anymore, something about him aging out before he ever found- and then it skipped again. Over and over again, it was bits and pieces of horrible experiences that added up to a puzzle Lance couldn’t even really fathom.

The worst he’d ever experienced was a  _ chancla _ thrown at his back or leg for sassing his Mama or being a little shit. It didn’t even really hurt. It was always just a dull thud that shocked him into straightening up. He’d  _ never _ been hit out of genuine anger or belittled, and most of those memories were of  _ little _ Keith, a Keith who had grown understanding that he’d have no family. And what the  _ hell. _ Lance had a wealth of family. His house was always filled to the brim of bright, loving faces. Even when they fought, they still loved each other and knew they could count on one another when things got rough. And to know that Keith apparently hadn’t had that...ever? It throws his archrival into a whole new light that Lance didn’t want to see him in.

By the time they decide to call it quits, Lance’s head is spinning. He’s not even really worried about what the others saw. Okay, that's a lie, but the possibility that someone noticed his attraction to two of the hottest men he’s ever seen in his life pales in comparison to actual, genuine child abuse. 

He’s a little more subdued as they head to dinner. When Hunk elbows him gently with a head tilt that screams ‘you okay, man?,’ Lance plays it off as embarrassment and wondering who saw what in his head...at which point Hunk’s grin grows smug, a bit like the cat who got the canary. 

Lance points in the most threatening way he can. “Shut it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Hunk said, his face falling to an approximation of ‘innocent,’ but Lance can see the mirth behind those eyes. He doesn’t trust it.  _ Ugh. _

\---

 

Shiro honestly cannot believe  _ this _ has made them work together as a unit of all things.

He chuckles as he heads to the showers. They’re all covered in food goo, having won a  _ food fight _ against the Alteans. Apparently Allura’s more devious than he’d thought. If it brought them all closer to being able to form Voltron, he guesses he can’t complain.

He showers quickly, still uncomfortable with everyone being able to see the scars littered over his body or the line where his flesh smoothly melds with his Galra prosthetic. It’s honestly a small mercy that Pidge hasn’t seen it yet. He can only imagine how many  _ more _ requests he’d get from them to study it if they did. 

He contemplates just turning in for the night, but quickly turns in the opposite direction, heading for the common room that overlooks Arus’ horizon. He’s not going to be getting any sleep tonight anyway. Not after the minor flashbacks to his Galra captive days his mind provides for him in the middle of the night, and especially not after tonight’s mind meld session.

_ Gods, _ what had the others seen? He’s seen the fleeting pitying looks from Pidge, a thoughtful one from both Hunk and Keith, and a soft, considering look from Lance. On one hand, he doesn’t want to know  _ anything _ about what they’d seen from him. On the other, it’s probably going to eat at him until he knows. 

He’s the leader. He can’t afford to look weak in front of his team. He just  _ can’t. _ They need a strong foundation to stand on, and if their leader, their  _ foundation, _ is cracking along the edges, how can they trust him to guide them in any capacity. 

Of course his Soulmate has the most impeccable timing in existence. He Sings.

_ “Oh and as the day turns into night. The things that we can't say, the things we try to hide. Like everyone else, we can't choose the way we die. Oh but we can choose the way we live tonight.” _ Shiro Sings softly, and immediately knows his Soulmate is singing just as quietly on the other end.  _ “Oh, I wish I had the answers. I wish I had the time to give you all the reasons why it's worth it down the line. Well maybe I don't have the answers, and maybe we could find the time because there's people crying, people crying every night.” _

Shiro stops in the middle of the hall, brows furrowed at the soft, somber quality to his own tone. He knows that nine times out of ten, his tone and volume will match his Soulmate’s. He knows that if they’re whispering and the cosmic bond decides to choose  _ that _ as the Song you’ll also Sing, you’re going to complement it. 

This Song is beautiful, and as per his more recent usual, it kind of fits with the situation he’s in. He doesn’t know how the Soul bond works, but he’s almost always appreciated it. He leans against the wall, closing his eyes as he listens to the words spilling from his lips, cherishing the relatability if not the weighty feeling accompanying them.

_ “Oh it's such a strange and unforgiving life, and no matter what, no one makes it out alive. So we should spend more time wondering why we fight instead of hiding love on the edge of all our knives," _ he Sings and immediately feels moved. As he finishes out the Song with a repeat of the chorus, he thinks.

His Haha has always said he’s always been a more sensitive soul. Things just cut him a bit deeper, a little quicker, a little harsher than most others. His Chichi had called it a curse, saying it made him weaker, made him more susceptible to pain, made him more likely to break. His Haha had called it a blessing, pointing out that it made him more empathetic and sympathetic, gave him a strength others might not consider, made him more likely to understand others and what they were feeling and what they’d do because of those feelings. He’d never deny being a Haha’s boy.

So, he sits there against the cool, unforgiving wall in the castle hallway, thinking about the lyrics and how they  _ moved _ him. How they fit so well for the present state of his situation and even his team. That was happening more and more lately, ever since he landed on Arus with the rest of his team. Usually, in the past, his Songs would be completely random. If he compiled the Songs, it would be a complete mess of a playlist. It was never cohesive, and it only rarely fit what he needed or wanted to hear. 

Ever since leaving Earth, each song hit close to home, and he could do nothing but hope that whatever his Soulmate was going through, they’re okay.

Did he want to even contemplate any of his team dying, himself included? No. Is it a reality of war? Unfortunately yes. All they could do was make the best out of their situation and  _ never give up. _ They needed to cut the bullshit and the bickering and focus on bonding with one another. Maybe he’d bring this song up to the team sometime. He isn’t sure.

With a deep breath, he continues his original trek to the common room, stopping short when he notes two figures sitting on the couch. Hunk’s arm is around Lance, comforting and solid in the way the yellow paladin always seems to be, with Lance’s head resting against Hunk’s big shoulder, and Shiro can’t choke the wave of jealousy that rushes over him down in time. 

He shouldn’t even  _ be _ jealous. Lance is  _ 17, _ for the gods’ sake. Suddenly nauseous with himself, he turns to leave only to halt at the sound of his name.

“Oh, hey, Shiro! You don’t have to leave on account of us,” Hunk says warmly, welcomingly, and Shiro hates himself more for the envious twist in his gut when Lance turns those big, blue eyes to him.

“No, it’s okay. You guys deserve some alone time when you can get it,” Shiro keeps his expression level in the face of both Hunk’s  _ and _ Lance’s incredulity, like they’re surprised Shiro could be ‘cool’ with whatever their relationship is. “Really, I know it’s hard to find some peace and quiet together with all seven of us around each other everyday, so really, it’s-”

“Shiro, buddy, you don’t think we’re together, do you?” Hunk asks with an odd shake to his voice, like he’s holding back laughter. 

Shiro’s brows furrow. “...Yes?”

And then Hunk is in hysterics. Shiro ignores the blush creeping up on his face as Lance immediately presses closer to the end of the couch, putting a bit more space between him and his best friend.

“Dude, Hunk is  _ not _ my- His Soulmate is- We’re not together!” And Hunk laughs harder. Lance shoots him a wounded look. “Hey! I am a hot piece of ass, grade-A boyfriend material, and you’d be lucky to call me yours.”

Shiro does  _ not _ comment. He doesn’t even acknowledge the knot loosening between his shoulders (and maybe his heart), unduly relieved.

“Yeah, man, I know, I know. It’s just funny is all,” Hunk says, motioning vaguely to Shiro, and Shiro’s pretty sure he’s missing the joke when Lance’s wounded look turns wide-eyed and panicked. Hunk pats Lance’s knee with an expression somewhere between amusement and sympathy as he stands. “I’m going to bed. You two have fun.”

And then Shiro’s alone with Lance, and he swears the silence should be more awkward than it is, but Lance just grins through it with affected casualness, “so today was crazy, huh?”

Shiro sits down on the opposite end of the couch with a forced smile. “Yeah, I’d definitely say so. Still, we’re making progress, so at this point, I’ll take what I can get.”

Lance just bobs his head, and looks hard at Arus’ horizon, the yellow-white sun dipping under the skyline, throwing the sky into a symphony of oranges and pinks and gold and throwing Lance’s skin into a symphony of bronze. Shiro swallows as Lance shakes him out of his staring. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think this is an Earth sunset.”

Shiro hums, smile growing more wistful as he forces himself to turn toward the sunset. It really is beautiful. “Yeah, I’d think so too. Looks a lot like Arizona.”

“I hope they’re okay.” Lance says after the ensuing peaceful silence.

Shiro tilts his head at the non sequitur. “Any ‘they’ in particular?” 

“My family, a few friends, my Soulmate,” Lance shrugs. “Humanity as a whole.”

Shiro snorts, dismissing the weird tug at the mention of Lance’s Soulmate. “Yeah, me too. I’m sure they’re all worried, but when we eventually go back, things will be okay.”

Lance rests his chin on his knees, his expression tinged with a forlornness Shiro hadn’t expected as his arms hugging his legs closer to his body. “I hope so.”

Shiro gives in to the urge to comfort, gently grabbing Lance’s shoulder until he turns and meets Shiro’s eye. “I know so.”

They both know he can’t  _ actually _ promise something of that magnitude, but the effort seems to settle Lance anyway, who shakes his shoulders as if to physically shake off the tension. Shiro moves his hand back to his lap, ignoring the way his flesh tingles long after it’s disconnected from Lance’s skin. Every so often, Shiro catches Lance looking at him from the corner of his eye searchingly, like he wants to say something, to  _ ask _ something. He never does, and while Shiro’s curious, he’s glad to just sit here with his- teammate? Friend?- watching the setting sun and wondering if he can make good on that promise that everything will be just fine.

\---

 

During Lance and Shiro’s little bonding moment, they miss Keith come in in an exact mimicry of Shiro’s entrance. The difference is that he goes unnoticed as he turns around and walks away with a sharp sting of jealousy and a heavier heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chancla- sandal
> 
> The song used in this one is ["People Crying Every Night" by A R I Z O N A](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kBXnTWtR2UI).


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN EXPLANATION FOR MY ABSENCE: If you're subscribed to me (if so, THANK YOU) or have just checked out any of my other works within the last two months, you'll see that I did a WLW Voltron challenge where I wrote a fic a day for the month of August. I ended up writing over 100K (go me)! Buuut...I hadn't anticipated how much it would burn me out until after it was all done, SO...I genuinely tried, y'all. I tried so hard to update my chaptered fics in September, but it just wasn't in the cards for me lol.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much for being patient. I appreciate each and every one of my readers. You're the best <3

For the first time probably ever, Shiro curses his Soulmate.  

_ “Coming over in my direction. So thankful for that, it's such a blessin', yeah. Turn every situation into Heaven, yeah. Oh, you are my sunrise on the darkest day, got me feelin' some kind of way.  _ _ Make me wanna savour every moment slowly, slowly.” _ He Sings, smiling apologetically at Pidge as they walk into one of the crashed Galra ships littering the Arusian desert. 

Pidge bites their lip to stifle their laugh, caught somewhere between angry and betrayed, and teasing and amused. The corners of their lips and brows are trembling with the effort to keep a straight face as he continues, and he just shrugs helplessly. Considering they just found out that Shiro apparently attacked their brother, he’ll take any positive reaction (even if it’s laughing at him) as a win.  _ “You fit me tailor-made, love, how you put it on. Got the only key, know how to turn it on. The way you nibble on my ear, the only words I wanna hear. Baby, take it slow so we can last long.” _

Shiro doesn’t recognize the song at all (it most likely came out while he was...away), but his face feels like it’s set aflame when the lyrics filter into his cognizance, easily translating as the song switches to Spanish. He wonders why the hell the cosmos chose  _ this _ song, and  _ now _ of all times, to bring the Song to his lips. Sure, it’s a comforting reminder that his Soulmate is okay back home, and he loves knowing that they’re fine, but really, a more opportune time where he isn’t riddled with guilt and dealing with the mental whiplash of another memory trigger would have been fantastic. 

Still, an unbidden thrill runs down his spine. He can’t recall a time where he’s Sung a Song so explicitly sexual since his Soulmate’s temporary obsession with J. Holiday’s “Bed.”  _ This _ song alludes (rather blatantly) to taking apart their lover,  _ slowly, _ even making their partner forget their own name, and it makes Shiro's mouth fucking water. 

He’s always wondered what his Soulmate would be like- what they’d look like, smell like, sound like,  _ taste _ like, how they’d  _ feel- _ on, around, maybe even  _ in _ him. He wonders if the cradle of his Soulmate’s thighs would be thick and soft or hard and unforgiving. He wonders what color those eyes are, and wonders if he’ll drown in them. He wonders what their voice sounds like in every way, from talking to singing to gasping his name. He wonders if they’ll want to top or bottom (or if his Soulmate has a vagina, if they’d be willing to peg him). He wonders what their smile looks like, and if their taste really would change just by eating more fruit, and what he’d smell burying his face into their hair. He wonders if they’d like that hair pulled. He wonders-

He forces himself to stop and take a few steadying breaths to try and calm himself down. Pidge doesn’t deserve to see him worked up over a damned Song and a runaway train of lascivious thought. Thank the gods Pidge had never taken Spanish.

He’d always felt a sense of clinging guilt for sexualizing someone he doesn’t technically even know, but…as far as he knows, it’s normal to want to imagine sharing pleasure with the person (or people) meant for you (according to every one of his health teachers). He just...hasn’t allowed himself to think of his Soulmate like that since being captured. Until now, that is.

A bit of melancholy overlays the scorching heat and mirth (and guilt and frustration) as he looks down at his tainted arm currently powering the ship. Disgust rolls over him in droves for even  _ thinking _ of touching his Soulmate with his prosthetic. It’s a product, a weapon, a  _ so-called ‘gift’ _ from his enemy, a piece of him fused so intricately with his body that removing it isn’t an option. 

It’s a feat Earth science can’t even fathom touching at this point. There’s no true line of where his flesh ends and his prosthetic begins, a true melding and meshing from tissue and sinew to wires and metal. Its sensors are so advanced that he’s able to feel the smallest of things landing on his skin, from hair to the slightest of breezes to specks of dust. He can lift and push and crush and  _ cut his way through shit _ with a strength Shiro can’t even fully comprehend yet, and it terrifies him. What if he blanks out again, this time hurting a teammate? What if it were to happen to his Soulmate someday? What if he grabs too hard and (literally) breaks them?  _ What if he kills them? _

He feels nauseous at all the stomach-turning possibilities.

He  _ hates _ having this reminder of his time with the Galra. More than the stress-induced shock of white hair front and center. More than the obvious, vivid scar laid across his face. More than the smaller scars littering his skin. Probably not more than the block between his conscious mind and his memories, and definitely not more than the horrific flashes of torture and gore that seep through the cracks in the middle of the night.

Still, something so dark and corrupted should ever touch someone he’s meant to love. Hell, he shouldn’t have even touched Lance with it the day he shook his hand, or Keith the one time he slipped up and grabbed his shoulder with the wrong hand, but...that was before his prosthetic lit up with an alarming purple glow. That was before he realized the extent of the lethality contained in his prosthetic.

Since then, he’s tried to switch his dominant hand to his left so he doesn't have to sully anyone else with its touch.

He sighs, caught between mildly turned on and very guilty between lines of the song as Pidge searches for information on their family’s whereabouts.  


 

\---

Lance swears he’s never seen anything as cute as the Arusian people.

Beyond their (adorable) blind worship of Princess Allura, and beyond their (adorable) weird dance thing they do as an apology for their wrongdoings or whatever (and the concerning readiness to throw themselves into fire), they’re genuinely warm, kind people who welcome them all (with the exception of Shiro and Pidge back at the castle) with easy, open smiles. 

After the ‘sorry’ dance, they all kind of break up, chatting it up with the locals, learning a bit more about their people and their culture and customs and songs, and when one of them asks about one of  _ his _ favorite songs from Earth, he kind of just goes with whatever comes to mind. Why “Despacito” of all songs pops into his head, the Justin Bieber remix at that, he doesn’t know, but he goes with it, complete with a bit of Cuban side-step salsa flair. He dances in the way his Abuelo used to with his Abuelita back before she broke her hip, and it brings a wealth of fondness and a tug of nostalgia to mind. God, he misses his family.

He’s aware he probably looks like a dumb ass to the princess, Coran, Hunk and even Keith all the way across the clearing, but he can’t seem to care when the Arusians look at him like he’s giving them a truly wondrous gift. So, he just beams and rolls with it. Some of them even try to mimic his moves, and if that isn’t adorable, amusing and flattering in turn, he doesn’t know what is.

If he eyes Keith a bit too much, kind of wishing he could teach him some moves while he laughs at Keith’s discomfort with the Arusians’ propensity toward physical affection while  _ also _ making sure they don’t take it too far, well...he’s going to just keep that fact to himself.

\---

 

They need to go  _ now, _ and while Shiro understands Pidge’s need for that info for their family’s whereabouts, they just don’t have the time, and he refuses to let them (and himself) die because they didn’t get out before the threat in the sky takes them out. You really can’t find answers when you’re dead.

He takes a rare moment to thank the gods their Lions decide to save them. A lump forms in the back of his throat as Black attempts to soothe his inner turmoil.

\---

 

Keith isn't sure he’s ever felt this ready to just fucking  _ leave _ in his life.

Okay, so maybe diplomacy was kind of (really) important if they want allies, and maybe those alliances would come in handy should they need it in the future, but he’s restless doing  _ nothing _ among the Arusian people. They’re nice and all, and he did have actual, genuine fun for the first thirty minutes or so, amused with their intense intrigue in human culture and customs (like he had any to speak of, really). Their faces when he started Singing was even more entertaining.

(They asked him why the color of his face matched his Lion while Singing, but he refused to give them a concrete answer. He didn't need to scar these innocent people with the real meaning of his Soulmate’s decidedly sexual choice in song...or the fact that his awkward shifting was to relieve some of the pressure building between his legs. He’d had to think of every disgusting thing imaginable to get his cock to cooperate with his panicking mind. He very much did  _ not _ want anyone seeing him turned on so out in the open.) 

Anyway, he’s not huge on hugs and affection, and the Song doesn't make anything any less uncomfortable, and while watching Lance from the other side of the field, dancing like a (sexy, enticing, surprisingly coordinated) idiot and mouthing something he can’t make out from this far away is endearing, he’s certainly not huge on patience when one, he’s so fucking  _ restless, _ and two, there are more important, pressing matters at hand. They really need to get off this planet.

He’s itching to find answers to these damn questions swirling around in his mind about the Galra. He wants to take out this shithead, Zarkon, and question any of the Galra command he can imprison about who’s been fucking with him for the last (almost) 19 years.

Those are the only things he can come up with too- that someone in the Galra had either done something to him as a baby, or has been fucking with him (for some unknown reason) since he could remember his dreams. Why else would he have known about them? Why else would his imaginary dream friend end up being  _ real, _ and a monstrous enemy at that? And the biggest question-  _ why him? _

Another thing that really gets him is the fact that in all of his “memories” or dreams or whatever of the Galra he’d had, they’d always been...good? There was a sense of safety and kindness and, dare he say it,  _ love _ that he has yet to see in any other Galra thus far. There was no aggression or malicious intent in any of his dreams. It was just some Galra with a warm, fond smile, regretful at the edges. Sometimes he’d run a hand through Keith’s hair like he’d seen other kids’ dads do to them. Sometimes he’d look a little panicked before rushing out of the room in Keith’s dreamscape. He’d never attacked, never even looked at Keith with distaste. Keith doesn’t know what any of it means.

He rubs at his temples in an attempt to rid himself of the building headache.

They've been here for weeks now on Arus while Allura and Coran worked on getting the castle-ship back in working order (usually with Pidge and Hunk in tow because not only are they fascinated with alien tech and machinery, but they’re also the only ones beyond the resident Alteans who can really help with systems diagnostics). They’d finally gotten everything in order and were ready to launch- Keith was damn  _ ready- _ before the Arusians interrupted their plans. And now, he has to wait until the princess has decided they’ve done enough and can peace out, and he’s so frustrated, but there’s nothing he can do. He’d easily be outvoted to stay if he brought it up, judging by the warm, relaxed smiles on everyone else’s faces. Today has just been testing his nerves, okay?

And now, suddenly, this giant, monstrous, laser ball-slinging, Galra robot beast fucker pops out of nowhere. He breathes a subtle sigh of relief. At least they’re not just sitting around doing nothing anymore.

\---

 

_ Gracias a Dios _ for Keith’s magical fist powers or whatever (he is  _ not _ blushing at his own words. Shut up). Don’t tell Keith he said this, but that sword was  _ sick, _ and as much as Lance doesn’t want to give his archrival so much credit, his skill with it probably saved all of their asses from being handed to them on a platter by that damned robeast thing. 

Shiro did his usual leader thing, which was great as always (his whole memory trigger thing was a bittersweet blessing from Dios Himself, Lance swears), but the team’s lack of actual teamwork made the battle a close call in the end. Pidge messed up with the shield/laser thing. Hunk did a lot of, well, not much post-forming. Don’t even talk to Lance about how his kick failed them... _ again. _ (He’s so tired of failing.) But  _ Keith, _ man...that was, dare Lance say it, kind of impressive.

Anyway, Team Voltron protected the Arusians, and while Lance’s ego is bruised, he’s just trying to focus on how those cute, little guys are safe and sound. Hell, they gained actual, legitimate allies today, so while Lance’s personal win chart has zero tallies to date, Team Voltron gets another one, so he guesses he’ll take it.

\---

 

Shiro’s just glad he remembers enough to know he didn’t hurt Matt without an actual reason. He’s glad to know that he might not be as much of a monster as he’d originally thought.

\---

 

Keith is  _ pissed. _

In the middle of such a nice, little party, Pidge announces (to the team, of course...minus Lance.  _ Wait, where’s Lance?) _ that they want to leave just so they can find  _ two people _ in the entire universe when the entire rest needed them just as much as their family. 

On a certain level, he gets it. Kind of? Maybe. He doesn’t have any actual family, so maybe that skews his perspective, but really. It’s logic. Isn’t Pidge supposed to be the veritable image of rationality and reason? 

Even if  _ he _ doesn’t have anyone but his Soulmate back on Earth, that doesn’t mean that they’re more important to the greater picture than anyone else (as much as it almost physically pains him to admit). They’re important to  _ him, _ yes, but  _ he’s _ definitely not more important than anyone else, and it just burns his ass that Pidge seems to think they are. 

It isn't until Shiro puts his hand on Keith’s shoulder, using that damned tone that immediately makes him weak at the knees and calms him in turn that he settles down, remembering to breathe, remembering to back the hell up before he becomes the reason they run. It shakes him more than he wants to admit that his initial reaction to his rage was to back Pidge into a corner like so many of his foster parents had done to him as a kid. 

He glares at the ground, most of his anger shifting focus from Pidge to himself as he apologizes, his voice small. The instant relaxation in the lines of everyone’s shoulders is gratifying enough that he doesn’t feel like such an asshole. Shiro’s arm slinging around Keith’s shoulders isn’t so bad either. 

He crushes down each butterfly that takes flight in his stomach. Shiro is only ever going to see him as a friend, and besides, he’s seen the way Shiro’s been looking at Lance lately (and doesn’t  _ that _ just sting that Lance has been returning those fond gazes in kind). He’s their friend- well,  _ Shiro’s _ friend. Nothing more. As much as he wishes he could be, he knows it’s a lost cause. As much as he’s always hated the term, he’s well and truly friendzoned by one of his crushes, and hated by the other. Just fuck his life, honestly. 

Regardless, he’ll take being able to call Shiro his friend over nothing any day, so he just revels in the easy affection as it comes, fighting back the lump in his throat each time it makes its home there. He just wishes he could say the same for Lance.

Speaking of Lance, just where the hell is he?

\---

The last thing Lance thinks of before being knocked out by the bomb is that he hopes Keith and Shiro (and the others-  _ of course _ the others) are going to be okay without him.

 

\---

Shiro honestly can’t believe how quickly everything’s gone south. Well, that’s not entirely true. He can  _ definitely _ believe it what with the Galra being involved, but still. Things were good- great, even- and now he’s looking down at the collapsed form of Lance out cold on the floor and he feels the strain in his ability to pull in air.

He’s all too aware of the risks of living the kind of life they’re going to be living for the next...indefinite time period. He’s hyper aware of the fact that any of them could be seriously injured or even die. Still, it doesn’t prepare him for how helpless and small Lance looks.

Lance, with his huge  _ everything- _ oh, hush. You know what he means. Huge personality, huge ego, huge smiles, huge heart. He’s the kind of person who immediately creates a presence when he walks into the room whether he tries to or not. He’s loud and rambunctious and always has a joke or five at the ready. He’s also got one of the biggest attitudes of all time (second only to Keith, probably), and it’s disconcerting that all of that is reduced to a crumpled heap, his face set to an approximation of peace that suggests he could just as easily be taking a nap...if it wasn’t for the scraps and cuts littering his skin, and the sluggish flow of blood oozing from his left temple.

Swallowing thickly, Shiro mentally counts back from 10, focusing on breathing deep and collecting himself before splitting the team off into groups- Coran and Hunk leave to find a replacement crystal, he and Pidge stay at the castle, and Allura and Keith leave to aide the village.

Shiro isn’t quite sure what to make of Keith’s reluctance and inability to keep his face from falling into despair as he looks at Lance other than to wonder if they’d finally called off their silly, little ‘rivalry.’

\---

 

Of course the village attack was a distraction.  _ Of course. _

He’s glad that the Arusian people are alright, but Keith feels like he wants to find each and every Galra within a 500-mile radius and rip them apart with his bare hands.  _ They hurt Lance. _ According to Pidge, they’ve got Shiro too. Keith wouldn’t be remotely surprised if they’ve hurt him, and _damn,_ if that doesn't make his blood boil.

Keith doesn’t know what the fuck to do with himself, trapped outside the castle, unable to get in and help. All he can think about is the way Lance looked so tiny in his armor, lifeless like a puppet recently cut from his strings. The groans of pain will probably haunt his near-future nightmares and it kills him that he’s stuck outside while Lance is stuck in there with the assholes who did that to him. Keith can’t get it out of his head, the idea that maybe Lance would be fine as long as Keith could hold him, patch him up,  _ do something. _

And  _ Shiro. _ Goddamn it, Keith has just recently gotten him back. These past weeks have been amazing, just being able to be around his best friend again even if he had to constantly combat the urge to reach out and touch. Being able to see Shiro’s smile, hear his voice- hell, even  _ smelling his sweat _ was a fucking treasure. (He knows how weird that sounds, but he’s going to stand by it because he’s missed his only real friend [and one out of Keith’s two ridiculously strong crushes] in his life for over a year. Sue him.)

He knows it’s pretty illogical to assume that just his presence would be enough to save Lance’s life, somehow make whatever they’ve done to Shiro better, but  _ god, _ it couldn’t hurt. 

“It will be alright, you know. As long as Pidge can get to the main engine control panel in time, it will be alright,” Allura says beside him, snapping him out of the ever growing funk collecting at his shoulders. Her voice would sound strong and confident if he hadn’t heard the slight shake at the end.

“I...hope so. I just hate waiting,” Keith grumbles, and Allura sends him a sardonic smile along with her hum of agreement.

“Why don’t you sing to pass the time?”

“...What?!” Heat settles at the high points of his cheeks, at the tips of his ears as he stares at her incredulously.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I was there when the others went to find Yellow and Green. I heard that depressing song you sang.” She raises a brow at his inability to meet her eyes. “I also know it seemed to make you feel a bit better afterward, so perhaps it could help you now?”

“I don’t know. Last time, it was… I was thinking about my Soulmate. This time, I’m just pissed that there’s nothing we can do right now.”

“Soulmate?” Allura’s brow furrows as she repeats the word. 

“I guess Alteans don’t have those, huh?” Keith asks, pursing his lips when she shakes her head. He’s uncomfortable with this line of conversation- he never was great at giving anyone ‘the talk’ despite having to do so more than once for various foster sisters and brothers. He shifts to face her, cracking his neck in the process to relieve some tension building there. “They’re basically the universe’s way of pairing us together.” At her skeptical expression, he huffs. “I know how ridiculous it sounds, but on Earth, there’s someone for everyone who wants one. Aromantic people tend to not have a Soulmate, but everyone else has at least one person meant just for them. Sometimes it’s one other person. Sometimes more. I think the biggest Soulmate group I’ve ever heard of was five.” His tone goes quiet as he bites his lip. “But yeah, I… Back on Earth, I have someone out there for me. All of us have someone, I think. That day, it didn’t hit me until we were here that I’d left behind the only constant person I’ve had in my life since I was four.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Allura says, her tone about as uncomfortable as Keith feels. “Alteans don’t have Soulmates, so I can’t understand what it must mean to you to leave them behind, but I bet they miss you.” 

Keith’s smile is strained when he says, “I haven’t met them yet. They probably don’t even know that I’m gone. I don’t even know if that particular song reached them, but I do know theirs has come back to me, so at least I know they’re safe. I guess that’s all that matters in the end, right?”

Allura’s eyes are rounded out in sadness before reaching out a hand to rest on his shoulder. “I would say so, yes. Now, what is this about your songs reaching one another?”

When he started his day, bonding with Allura wasn’t exactly anything he’d expected on the agenda. He sighs, a bit fond, a bit exasperated as he explains Singing and Soulmates to an acutely interested Allura. Every so often, she pauses the conversation to direct Pidge to the control room, nudging them here and there to find what they’re looking for, before returning to a lesson he’d learned in elementary school.

It isn’t until the barrier drops that he realizes how much talking about Soulmates distracted him from his restlessness. 

\---

He can’t believe it. Lance, insufferable, beautiful, brave  _ ass _ that he is, woke up long enough to take down the Galra that’d held them captive for the last couple of hours. Ridiculous. Amazing.

After checking to make sure Shiro is at least cognizant under Pidge’s scrutiny, Keith wastes no time in sliding to Lance’s side, pulling him as carefully as he can into his arms, unthinking as he gently wipes the sweat and blood from just above Lance’s eye, carding his fingers into Lance’s hair. This might be the only time he’s allowed to do this, and he refuses to pay any heed to the three pairs of eyes burning holes into his person. His focus, for now, is on the man in his arms as he asks, “Lance, are you okay?”

Even through the haze of pain, Lance looks back at him with something bordering on, dare Keith say it,  _ wonder? _ Keith ignores the stampeding staccato of his pounding heartbeat as Lance graces him with a goofy, lopsided smile. “We did it. We make a great team.”

It takes every ounce of his self-control not to press his lips to Lance’s.

\---

 

Shiro doesn't know to react to what he’d seen. In the moment, he was being mother henned by Pidge, assuring them that he was going to be fine. He had to make sure Sendak was taken care of, and had to make sure Lance made it safely to the healing pod, so he couldn’t dwell too much on it. 

Now that he’s standing here before the motionless blue paladin, the scene pops into his mind, refusing to be ignored.

Sitting off to the side, watching Keith hold Lance so tenderly, watching Lance’s wide eyes slide to something dopey and sweet, watching Keith’s beautiful lips slide into a fond smile, watching them together...it makes Shiro itch- jealous and possessive  _ of both _ in turn and just-. 

_ Gods, what is he even thinking? _

Keith is his best friend. And okay, so the lines of relationships can blur and shift and he’s not necessarily 100% stuck in the title of “friend” forever if he should ever build up the nerve to say something about his unfortunate crush, but not only has Keith never shown interest beyond maybe an appreciative once-over or two here and there, but Shiro also knows how much Keith’s Soulmate means to him. 

Shiro was there for those 3AM conversations about how Keith wonders if he’s destined to be lonely forever, having never found his Soulmate. Keith had wondered how anyone could ever love someone like him- someone so broken, so damaged beyond repair by foster family after foster family, by the bullying he’d experienced throughout his life, by his building aggression issues, by some other dark shit Keith didn’t even want to mention- and Shiro remembered giving into the urge to pull Keith in his arms then and there, murmuring affection and reassurances into the hush of the room. 

Shiro still can’t believe Keith thought that way. If he knows his best friend, he probably  _ still _ thinks that way. Shiro rubs at his chest, just over his heart, in some attempt to assuage the pain that collects there. He just hopes that whoever is meant for Keith, that they realize just how astonishing, how breathtakingly beautiful, how phenomenal he really is. He hopes they’ll love Keith the way he deserves to be loved. He hopes they’ll accept Keith exactly as he is, that they’ll give Keith the support and care he needs. He just can’t- he  _ won’t- _ come in between what Keith has with that lucky person.

Sighing, Shiro rests his palm against the glass of Lance’s healing pod.  

Shiro honestly shouldn’t feel like this. The butterflies in his stomach shouldn’t kick up in a flutter whenever he (or Keith...or worse,  _ both of them) _ are around. Regardless of how outrageously flirtatious  _ (with just about everyone, _ his mind grumbles) Lance is, not only is he decidedly  _ not _ legal, he’s also (unfortunately-  _ shut up, brain) _ just a friend. 

He must be going out of his damn mind. The hopeless romantic in him says that there’s nothing wrong with the slow descent his heart is making into genuine feelings for two incredible young men. The logic in him speaks of how much of a monster he is for falling for two  _ kids _ (he can practically hear Keith sputtering in indignation now, but being barely over 18 does not mean he’s not a kid to Shiro). 

_ Gods, _ maybe the Galra messed him up more than he realized. He knows that before he was abducted, he’d detachedly known how gorgeous Keith was. He knows he thought that Lance was adorable back then. He remembers wondering what could have been between him and Keith if Keith had just been a bit older. He remembers wondering what it would have been like if Keith was his Soulmate. He remembers rolling his eyes at himself, laughing it off...or at least trying to. He remembers how much the idea had stuck to his mind like a parasite ever since the thought pervaded his mind.

And now, because apparently his mind is just built to torture him, he wonders what it would be like to be Lance’s Soulmate. What would it be like to sing with him? With Keith? He’s never heard either of them sing before beyond a jaunty, little tune from Lance here and a low murmuring cadance from Keith there. He wonders if they’ve ever harmonized when they Sing like he has. What if- what if they were all Soulmates? What if they could harmonize as a poly trio. Wouldn’t that be amazing?

Except this is reality, and reality has shown itself to be unkind to Shiro, so he knows that his unrequited crushes will eventually fade to obscurity as he watches Lance and Keith either fall for each other or they find their own Soulmates someday. 

That should feel like relief considering he definitely doesn’t deserve a Soulmate, not after some of the shit he’s done, not after little pieces of what he’d done during his time with the Galra started filtering through his conscious mind. Even if he repented for the rest of his life, even if Lance was a little older, even if Keith didn’t see him as just his best friend, even if the universe aligned just right for them, he still would never deserve them.

It doesn't feel like relief.

He rests his forehead against the cool glass beside his hand, trying his level best not to lose his cool, not to crack under the weight on his shoulders, not to break down. He breathes deeply, slowly, trying to tamp down the desire to just  _ find his Soulmate _ that threatens to swallow him whole. If he could just find them, this guilt surrounding his feelings for Keith and Lance...they could all go away, right? 

He swallows thickly, watching a particularly gnarly bruise on the side of Lance’s jaw slowly return to that perfect cinnamon-bronze tone, eyes slamming shut when the image of dragging his own teeth over the area invades his mind.

He really needs to get it together.

\---

 

Keith stops short at the doorway of the med bay. He’d only left long enough to take a shower and now he’s returned to  _ this. _

For the second time in recent history, he’s found Shiro and Lance in a more intimate situation than he’d been expecting. This time, it’s tainted with the injuries Lance had sustained, and while last time he’d run away, Keith isn’t doing that this time. There isn’t a part of him that wants to be away from Lance for too long. Pidge can keep their knowing looks to themself. He’s all too aware of his mess of an emotional state, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be there for his friend  _ (not a damn rival- not anymore) _ in his time of need.

He slowly makes his way over to Shiro who still hasn’t noticed his arrival until he sets his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro jolts, his head snapping up to meet Keith’s, and Keith is...taken aback is putting it lightly.

He knows Shiro's a sensitive man, always has been, but  _ fuck. _ In addition to ‘PTSD face,’ ‘big, fat, unspilled tears’ and ‘abject guilt and misery’ are now added to the list of faces Keith never wants to see again. Unthinkingly, he drags a thumb over the freshly spilled tear marring the side of Shiro’s face. When Shiro’s eyes flutter shut, his face pressing just a hair into Keith’s touch, Keith rips his hand away like it’s been burnt. He ignores the flash of hurt on Shiro’s face as he refocuses on Lance’s peaceful face.

He’s seen the way Shiro looks at Lance. He’s seen the way Lance looks back at him. He can’t- He just can’t get in between that, regardless of how much he definitely wants to get  _ between that. _ His face colors at that line of thought and he immediately squashes it.

There’s a tense pause before Shiro gently turns Keith, pulling him into an unexpected hug. Keith freezes for a moment before melting into it. Even if he can’t have Shiro the way he wants him, he’ll take what he can get. He wraps his arms around Shiro’s thick, muscled torso and swallows down around the lump in his throat. 

If Pidge hadn’t gotten that barrier down, if that Sendak asshole had hurt them anymore, Keith could have lost both Shiro and Lance tonight. Both of the men he’s hopelessly fallen for gone in one fell swoop. Forget about Lance’s rivalry shit, he’s still one of the most important people in Keith’s life (not that he’d ever say that out loud lest Lance’s head grow three times in size at that admission). He and Shiro are  _ right _ behind his Soulmate, whoever they are, and Keith genuinely doesn’t know what he’d do if he lost one of them let alone  _ both. _

He clings to Shiro and Shiro clings right back, his thick fingers digging into his back as he shakes. Wait- what? Keith tries to pull back, but Shiro won’t let him, refusing to go with a quick shake of his head and while Keith  _ will _ get answers later, he doesn’t think either of them have the energy to bicker over Shiro’s avoidance right now. 

So they stand there, holding on to one another for some semblance of comfort before Lance, unmoving and unaware in his healing pod. Keith doesn’t know how long they stand there, but by the time they make it to the floor to fall asleep (and when they both decided that was the thing to do, Keith doesn’t know), the light filtering in from Arus’s sky has dimmed to a hazy purple-pink.

\---

 

“How much you willing to bet at least two of them are Soulmates?”

Pidge raises a brow at Hunk. “Okay, but who? Your bet proposal is too vague.”

“It was just a thought, not an actual-”

“I think it’s Keith and Lance,” Allura cuts in. At the looks of surprise aimed at her, she laughs, “Pidge, you were there. You saw how tenderly Keith held Lance. Also, you cannot tell me their ‘rivalry’ is anything more than pent up, ah,  _ tension _ between them.”   


“Allura!” Pidge gags while Hunk wheezes an uncomfortable laugh.

“I’m with you there, but...Keith and Shiro have a  _ lot _ of history. Besides, Lance has just recently realized he’s playing for both teams, so he might just be crushing on them because they’re both really attractive. I’m going with them.” Hunk shrugs.

“I think Lance and Shiro have been spending more quality time together lately. They way they are when they’re together makes me think it might be them,” Coran adds thoughtfully.

“Alright, so that’s Allura for Klance, Hunk for Sheith, and Coran for Shance?” Pidge asks, earning flat looks from the group at large. “Whatever. Ship names are a thing. I’m going big and betting they’re  _ all _ Soulmates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait for some of the shit I've got planned for our Paladins *rubs hands together like a cartoon villain*
> 
> Thank you to all of my readers for your patience and understanding in my absence. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tosses chapter to you over a wall*
> 
> I'VE BEEN GONE SO LONG. I'm so sorry. Winter has never been, is not, and probably will never be kind to me. Anyway, this is a short chapter. Don't worry- I'm going to work on making the next few much, much longer and perhaps even a little...spicy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Lance sometimes wonders if he did something in a past life to garner the kind of bullshit (or maybe phenomenal- the jury’s out on that one) luck he’s been cursed (blessed?) with..

For one, while those healing pods are no joke when it comes to fixing up everything from bumps and scratches to full on broken bones and internal bleeding,  _ fuck, _ the consequential migraines and the hypersensitivity of pretty much every single part of the body that come afterward aren’t pretty. Something to do with human physiology just barely being able to take the Altean standard healing pod rate or something. Whatever. All he knows is that this is the first time he’s had to spend a full night in one of those things and he gives the experience a 2/10, would not recommend (and he’s only giving that high of a rating because of the quick mending).

For two, pair that bullshit with blearily tripping over Shiro and Keith- a  _ cuddling _ Shiro and Keith no less, his mind belatedly supplies halfway through his descent to the unforgiving ground- not even a full ten feet outside the healing pod definitely isn’t helping matters, for his physical or emotional health, probably. 

So that’s where he is now, currently laying on the floor, sprawled out face-down in some sort of lazy scorpion position, arms outstretched in front of him from where they’d slid forward after he’d narrowly caught himself before landing face first. He groans at the sharp sting in the blades of his forearms and elbows (and maybe his heart), and the rolling throb in his head. The muscles in his back twinge uncomfortably at the sudden bunching and he briefly wonders if he’ll need another, albeit smaller, round in the pod.

“Oh gods, Lance! Are you okay?” Someone- probably Shiro judging by the rough (hot), concerned tone- asks as the broad body below him rolls out from under his legs. He grunts noncommittally and he’d probably laugh at them both scrabbling to get out from under him if he wasn’t in pain. He’s gently turned over, a large hand settling on his free wrist. 

His eyes slam shut against the blinding, fluorescent lights above him for a moment before throwing his free (and newly bruised) arm over them. He rather likes having his corneas intact, thanks. Once the intensity of his headache dies down to a series of low-level pangs, he flatly says, “babe, baby, honey, darling, sugar booger, _ querido, please _ don’t yell. .” 

A snort sounds to his right, and he dares to peek under the shadow his arm is creating. Being the extremely mature being he is, he immediately sticks his tongue out at Keith’s fond face (wait, what?). He swallows thickly as his eyes re-close, praying the melanin in his skin will prevent the heat in his cheeks from visibly blossoming pink.

Just- honestly, what did he do? Did he steal money from a beggar? Destroy some poor family’s Christmas? Kill someone?  _ Something _ must have happened in a past life to bring on heart palpitations at the ripe age of 17, caused by the softest, warmest, gentlest expression that Lance didn’t even know could fit on Keith’s ugly (re: hot,  _ so _ hot, fucking burning) mug. Don’t even get him started on the sweet, little sweeps of Shiro’s broad thumb rhythmically passing over his pulsepoint. If he could get away with shaking his fist at Dios without looking like a dumbass in front of the two men he’s recently found he wants to mack on hard (and may or may not be developing actual, real *feelings* for [asterisks and all, thank you]), he would, but alas. 

A whisper of touch by rough fingertips shakes him out of falling in too far into his reverie, gliding gently over the carpet burn on the arm  _ not _ in Shiro’s hold in a way that makes goosebumps rise over his skin. He startles, jerking to scratch over the tickled areas, wincing at the ache. 

“I- Sorry,” Keith frowns guiltily, pulling his hand back with a bitten lip and an adorable, little crease forming between those perfect brows that speak of his unsurety and honestly, Lance doesn’t know what to make of it. He feels like he’s missing something important by the expression on Keith’s face but he can’t, for the life of him, place it. Did something happen last night that he’s unaware of? 

It wouldn’t be all that shocking, really. His memory of the previous night is spotty at best. Being bludgeoned over the back of the head has the tendency to do that. 

“Let’s just give him some space,” Shiro suggests after an awkward pause, his eyes shifting from Keith to Lance and back before lightly squeezing Lance’s wrist, helping him to his feet. 

All at once, there’s a weird tension hovering in the air around the three of them that Lance doesn’t want to put a name on and really, he’s ready for another twelve hours of sleep. He doesn’t think he was ever this tired pre-Voltron era.

He’s just about to tell them as such when Keith clears his throat, shifting on his feet in an uncharacteristic display of hesitance before asking, “do you, ah, remember what happened last night?”

Lance cocks an eyebrow with a smug smile. “You mean when I blasted Sendak into the shadow realm?” He shoots a grin at Shiro’s chuckle, dipping to confusion at the apprehension in the elder’s eyes. 

“Uh...I guess?” Keith says, but the upward curl of his tone belies his own confusion. Lance tries his level best not to make googly eyes at Keith doing a full-on puppy dog tilt, but he doesn’t think he succeeds judging by the eye roll he’s given. “But no, I meant after that.”

Lance racks his brain but comes up blank, the bright vivid images of chaos and physical anguish broken up by thick black blind spots. “I’m assuming by your question, something  _ did _ happen, but I gotta tell you- I wasn’t mentally there for it,” he says, shrugging in some attempt at nonchalance even as the corners of his lips pull into a troubled frown.

“Seriously?” Keith sounds- and call Lance crazy, but Keith sounds hurt beneath the incredulity, his eyes doing that squinty thing he does when you can tell he doesn’t believe you. When Lance purses his lip with another shrug, he shifts closer, murmuring, “he kind of had a moment.”

“I’m, uh, going to go check on the rest of the team, let them know you’re up,” Shiro cuts in and Lance startles in response. His wide eyes swivel up to Shiro’s and immediately feels a little left of center by the downcast look on the elder’s face. He’s starting to feel like he woke up in a Twilight Zone-esque dream where he knows the people in front of him, but can’t recognize them for their abnormal demeanor. He knew he shouldn’t have had that many of those weird drinks last night.

With that, he decides instead of pushing through the tension, he’s going to make a tactical retreat as well. It’s not that he doesn’t want to know what kind of moment he had with Keith. It’s that he doesn’t think he can handle the embarrassment or judgment or what the hell ever Keith would serve him right now. They’re rivals, right? The peace has to end at some point and he’s just very much not up for that right now. 

Also, seeing Shiro bummed kind of makes Lance want to assuage whatever could possibly need...assuaged. 

“I might as well make those rounds with you. After that I’m gonna catch some z’s.” He says before turning back to a frowning Keith, heart sinking to his stomach at that previously flickering hurt solidifying in those violet eyes. “I’ll, uh- I’ll catch you later?”

He can’t help but feel like a jackass the moment Keith’s face hardens back to the blank, unreadable default setting, suddenly devoid of emotion, giving Lance a short nod before heading toward the door. “Sure. I’ll be in the training room if you need me.”

Lance watches Keith’s back as he leaves, feeling like he’s missing something rather monumental but dismissing the uncertain twist in the pit of his stomach to deal with later.

\---  
  


Perfect. This is all just so fucking  _ perfect. _

By some twist of cruel fate, Keith apparently could never have nice things. That moment he shared with Lance means nothing to the blue Paladin because he either genuinely doesn’t remember what happened last night or he’s faking it. Keith honestly isn’t sure which option is worse. 

He’s glad that Lance is fine, of course. Keith had almost lost his shit that night in the shower, panic creeping up to settle in the base of his throat the longer Lance was out of his sight. He’s pretty sure they only reason he’d been able to sleep at all last night was because of Shiro’s comforting presence at his side (Keith doesn’t want to talk about the way he felt like his heart beat a tattoo against his ribs, each beat whispering  _ home, home, home- _ a feeling he doesn’t ever remember having- just from waking up wrapped up in those strong arms). 

(He also doesn’t want to talk about the longing he’d seen in Shiro’s eyes each time he looked at Lance, or the pangs of regret and sorrow abusing his heart when he realized he would never be the focus of one of those looks. He didn’t want to talk about aching intimacy he’d felt between himself and Shiro standing before Lance, their helplessness and sorrow and the desire to remove those feelings from one another colliding into a moment so soft, it takes Keith’s breath away at the recollection. He doesn’t want to talk about how the butterflies kicked up a storm inside him when Shiro leaned into his touch only to morph into lead in his stomach when he remembered that Shiro wasn’t, isn’t and will never be his. He doesn’t want to talk about the unchecked hope rising up on him that he’d forcefully smothered because as much as he wants, wants,  _ wants, _ it’s just not in the cards for him.)

Still, Keith had really hoped he and Lance could move on from the bullshit antagonism between them, to be able to use the memory of that fleeting moment of connection between them as a linchpin in progressing from “rivals” to “tentative friends.” (His traitorous mind sighs something about  _ maybe something more _ before he can snub it into submission.)

Keith hacks away at training robot after training robot in a vain attempt to sweat out his guilt, jealousy and frustration. He lets his body run halfway on autopilot, cranking the difficulty to a higher level than his usual choice. It’s reckless, doing this without telling anyone, having no one to spot him should things turn sour because he knows, he  _ knows _ he has a tendency to take thing too far, but he needs the challenge to distract his mind from the toxic cocktail of emotions frothing up inside him.

It calls back to a time when he was younger, from his childhood and even in his early days at the Garrison, when he’d watched his temporary foster siblings, the short-lived friends that had passed through his life, and even the epic asshats that liked to bully him found their Soulmates. 

In the beginning, he used to feel happy for the people around him. He’d known that one day that would be  _ him _ Singing in tandem with whoever the universe gave to him, and he’d finally feel whole. He would smile fondly those random times he was lucky enough to witness strangers find their Soulmates. He always knew it was new when their eyes would pop wide and shocked, their voices turning wobbly with the weight of emotion that filled their faces. He would chuckle at the redness blooming over his classmates faces when their voices would sync up with another classmate across the cafeteria or gym. He’d congratulate his foster sisters and brothers when they’d come home with that telltale dreamy look, their gazes somewhere far away from the gloomy reality Keith was stuck in.

The smiles grew more wooden, the laughs more fake, and congratulations emptier with each year passed. He hadn’t meant to let his envy fester into this all-encompassing black emotion. It’d just happened one day when he’d realized that just about everyone around him had found that feeling of contentment and peace that he’d been longing for since his potty-training years. His frustration at moving from home to home, city to city, state to state and still not finding his Soulmate grew sharper, more impatient, more demanding, more desperate. It liked to mix with his jealousy in these hours of upset like bleach and ammonia, wreaking havoc on his tightly controlled state of mind.

He’d gotten good at that, the control. He’d needed it to hold the visceral words against the abuse he’d been given as a kid behind his teeth, knowing that the only thing that would make his punishments worse was a sharp tongue. He’d needed it to school his face into something neutral when the bruises and wounds were on the wrong side of uncomfortable. He’d needed it to calm his temper. It worked a solid 80% of the time. He let it collect in the back of his mind, pent up feelings held behind the dam walls he’s built for himself.

He must not have been paying attention to how deeply fissured they were because now… Now, the guilt and self-pity that’s been resting itself in the hollow of his throat seems to have been the straw that broke the camel’s back because  _ fuck, _ it crashes over him in waves wasn’t prepared for. He’s just so fucking  _ stupid. _

He’s stupid for letting his emotions cloud his logic. He’s stupid for desiring two men for so goddamn hard and so goddamn long now that his mind gives him ‘what ifs’ that he doesn’t want to contemplate for fear of exacerbating the impending heartbreak that will come when- not if, never  _ if- _ they’re unfounded. He’s stupid for allowing himself to subscribe to a pipe dream, twisting Shiro’s soft eyes and Lance’s quirked lips into something they’re not. He’s stupid for letting what he  _ knows _ would happen get to him like this. 

(It doesn’t stop him from feeling like he could burst at the seams when either of them give him even just a lick of attention.)

Fucking hell, he wonders what they would say if they- not only Shiro and Lance, but Hunk, Pidge, Allura, even  _ Coran- _ could peer into his mind right now and sends a thanks to the (probably fictional) powers that be that Team Voltron has no plans for the mind meld shit they’d been practicing. Would they be curious about his turmoil? Would they be appalled, disgusted by  _ why _ he was in such a tumultuous state? Would the tilt of their mouths turn piteous? 

Keith frowns to himself as he dodges the third close call in the last five minutes, calling for an end to the simulation through ragged pants. He collapses to his knees in a fit of exhaustion, the black waves of pain in is ribcage dwindling toward something manageable. His frown intensifies at his last thought. 

The last thing he wants his pity. He’s aware of how sad of a person he is if anyone was to look past the masks and fronts he puts up. He knows he’s a loner loser with nowhere to call home, no family, no connections, no real friends outside of Shiro, no  _ nothing. _ He knows that if he were to break down in front of anyone (a real breakdown, not the rage-induced stress relief he’d just practiced), that if he let someone in close enough, that they’d see the cracks in the facade haphazardly held together with spit and silt like a shitty, half-assed version of  _ kintsukuroi. _ That’s why he doesn’t let anyone too close. He doesn’t know what he’d do if someone notices how feebly he’s holding himself together.

That’s why he needs to extricate himself from this entanglement of complicated romantic feelings he has. For fuck’s sake, he already has someone back on Earth. He just...needs to be patient enough to get back there to find them so he can maybe have some genuine peace of mind for once in his life.

He sighs as he wipes the sweat out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks down at himself with a grimace and one last hard, thick swallow around own the remaining lump of guilt threatening to choke him. He needs a damn shower and a nap.  
\---

Shiro isn’t quite sure what he was expecting when Keith left the room, but it wasn’t the yawning discontentment unfurling in the pit of his stomach the further he walked away and it certainly wasn’t the twin sensations of shock and revulsion when Lance immediately attempted to hook his arm around Shiro’s prosthetic. He thankfully hadn’t commented when Shiro ripped his arm back, panic settling in the corners of his eyes, but there was a weighty knowingness in Lance’s otherwise unreadable expression that made the hairs on the back of Shiro’s neck prickle. 

There had been an awkward pause, a brief flash of sadness in Lance’s eyes that Shiro isn’t entirely sure he wasn’t imagining, before Lance pasted on what Shiro assumes was his best attempt at a genuine smile, easily switching to Shiro’s other arm and pulling him along to reassure the rest of the team that he is, in fact, alive. 

In what seems like no time at all, they’re at Lance’s bedroom door, a quiet  _ ‘thanks, Shiro’ _ and a hug that catches the elder off-guard the only thing explicitly exchanged between the two since the awkwardness in the medbay before sequestering himself in his room. Shiro wonders if the door would slam shut or close just as gently as it presently does if Lance had any choice in the pressure.

Shiro feels...weird, to put it lightly as he absently meanders toward the training deck, like he’s existing just a little left of center. Looking back, he’s felt like this for much longer than he’d like to admit, and the fact that this morning was so blatantly uncomfortable between the three of them just brought it into hyperfocus. 

He knows there’s some kind of history there, some kind of chemistry between Keith and Lance, and he knows that the tension he’d felt probably stemmed from that and that he was just caught in the crossfire of it all. 

After all these years, he thinks he still knows how to read Keith. He knows where to look for the signs of hurt in the lines of his face and body, like minute chinks in Keith’s otherwise perfect armor. Judging by the blank cluelessness in Lance’s face, he’s still not quite up to par in his perception of the red Paladin. 

Shiro sighs as he runs his flesh hand over his face. He feels like he’s been doing at a lot lately, ever since taking off from Earth again, and he’s starting to feel the strain of the weight on his shoulders much more acutely than is comfortable. 

A sudden fullness hits the back of his throat and he just  _ knows _ he’s going to Sing and  _ gods, _ he hasn’t even met his Soulmate, but he misses them. He feels the aching pull for them like he’s only felt a couple times before in his life. He wonders what it would be like if they were here, if he could hold them, touch them,  _ hear _ the-

_ “ _ _ I am not the only traveler who has not repaid his debt. I've been searching for a trail to follow again. Take me back to the night we met,” _ Shiro Sings, cutting himself off from the tragic spiral his mind is taking him down. This is another Song he doesn’t recognize, but he doesn’t know if it’s because of his absence or the song’s obscurity.

_ “And then I can tell myself what the hell I'm supposed to do. And then I can tell myself not to ride along with you,” _ he continues, the corners of his lips turning down as he feels the sorrow behind the lyrics. His voice warbles of its own volition, in a way that he just  _ knows _ isn’t of his own doing. His knees feel weak as his mind races, the ache in his chest growing sharper with distress as he thinks about his Soulmate singing this woeful tune, alone and an unfathomable amount of space between them. 

He feels the burn of tears behind his eyes as he continues.  _ “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met-” _

And somewhere in the middle of those heartbreaking lines, his mind comes to a halt because he  _ swears _ he hears someone singing along with him. That can’t be right though. The desire to find his Soulmate probably manifesting in some mental echo, some sort of backwards attempt at calming himself...right? But then-

_ “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you. Take my back to the night we met,” _ and that’s definitely meeting his ears in stereo, both his own voice reverberating back to him in the empty and a soft, melancholic filtering through the white noise of the showers. 

As if possessed, he deviates from his course to the training area, entering the communal bathroom without a second thought. 

_“When the night was full of terrors, and your eyes were filled with tears.”_ _Ironic,_ Shiro thinks as astonished tears run tracks down his cheeks. His breath becomes shallow as the familiarity of the voice washes over him, his heart sitting on a razor-fine line between buoyant and weighty. He honestly feels like he’s going to pass out because this can’t be happening...right? He couldn’t possibly he harmonizing with an unsuspecting Keith, could he? 

His flesh stings from the pinch his prosthetic gives him, so he’s assuming that this is indeed happening and he, in fact, is harmonizing with the unsuspecting Keith.

He feels like his emotions are all crashing together, layering over one another in a way that makes his stomach turn as he makes his way toward the back shower stall, the reality solidifying before his eyes. Keith doesn’t see him yet, doesn’t hear him yet as the water falls over his downturned face. Shiro’s glad for the chest-high walls shielding his view because he doesn’t know if his brain could handle the sight of how far that flush extends downward, glistening in the pale, yellow lights illuminating the room.

He feels elated and aroused and vindicated and terrified and so goddamned confused as to why this hasn’t happened before. (Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels a keen sense that he’s betraying Lance in some way, and attempting to remove the thought from his mind feels like trying to pull gum out of matted hair.)

He’s known Keith for years now, the longest friendship he has besides Matt and Pidge. He’s been one of Shiro’s best friends for far too long for this to have never happened once in the other’s presence. Shiro has never put too much stock in the old gods, but for a moment he can’t help but wonder what kind of games they’ve been playing with him and his, his- oh gods, his  _ Soulmate _ all this time and why. 

He stands there, far enough away that his eyes can’t trail past the bottoms of Keith’s (strong, beautiful) shoulder blades but not so far that his voice would be still drowned when Keith removes his head from the spray. Shiro watches with wide eyes as Keith takes a brief pause to rinse his face, his own Singing pausing as well, only further confirming the reality of the situation before stepping back.

_ “When you had not touched me yet. Oh, take me back to the nigh-” _

If this was happening to anyone else, Shiro might have chuckled at the abrupt end to the song, at the way they  _ both _ stop singing in tandem, at the way Keith’s-  _ his Soulmate’s- _ eyes bugs out as he whips around to meet Shiro’s, at the subsequent spill of unintelligible sputtering falling from those sinfully pouty lips. He might have even chuckled at the way Keith somehow slips on the shower floor (which was made out of an Altean material specifically designed to, you know,  _ not _ be slippery), flailing in an uncharacteristic display of gracelessness before catching himself on the partition between them, staring at Shiro like he doesn’t know if he wants to run to him or away. 

Shiro licks his lips, a bit overwhelmed when Keith’s eyes track the movement. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, but-” He croaks and peters off with what feels like an uncontrollably dopey smile, a bit lost as to how to proceed.

And like that, Keith’s eyes soften, still wide and his expression still gobsmacked, but there’s a gentleness that settles into the corners of his eyes that makes Shiro think that he should always look like this- soft pink cheeks and wet, lax lips and eyes so wide, Shiro can almost make out the minute differences in the shades of violet of his irises from feet away. His Soulmate (Shiro’s heart leaps each time he thinks it) blindly reaches to the side, turning off the water before grabbing his towel hanging off the door, his gaze never leaving Shiro’s.

Shiro’s rooted on the spot as Keith steps out of the stall, stepping forward slowly. He’s biting his bottom lip, his brows furrowed just enough that Shiro itches to rub at the shallow line formed between them. Hesitantly, he reaches forward to do just that, and the movement is so awkward and the moment so weird that Keith huffs in amusement, shaking his head.

“Please tell me I’m not imagining this,” he says, his voice a touch louder than a whisper, reaching up to catch Shiro’s fingers in his own.

“You’re not imagining this,” Shiro sighs back, relief filling him at the contact and suddenly he can breathe properly again. Regardless of the tiny bruise settling a soft purple on his bicep from earlier abuse, the confirmation that pinch provided was nothing compared to the rough calluses of Keith’s gingerly dragging over the soft skin of his fleshy, non-dominant hand. 

A sense of  _ rightness _ fills him so suddenly that it’s dizzying. He remembers his health classes growing up had always talked about how some people experienced an unexplainable emotional fullness in their hearts around their Soulmate and  _ wow, _ as much as Shiro had always dreamed of feeling it, he’s not prepared for how his heart feels like it’ll burst out of his chest just from how happy he feels. He sways forward, breathlessness and giddiness elbowing lingering fear and doubt out of the way (for now) as Keith steadies him, a bashful smile tugging at his lips. 

“I, uh,” Keith licks his lips nervously. “We should...talk about this, right? Preferably, uh, dressed.”

Shiro almost coos at Keith’s shyness but he holds his tongue. It’s not as if they’d never seen each other without their shirts on, and the towel that Keith’s free hand held in a death grip covered everything else. “Yeah. Yeah, we should,” Shiro agrees easily, the tremble in Keith’s voice snapping him out of the haze of unadulterated joy spreading through him. 

Although Shiro’s mind reels from the idea of separating from his Soulmate just after he’d found him, he leaves the bathroom after agreeing to meet at the observation deck after dinner.

Shiro finds himself humming a jaunty tune on the way to his room, feeling freer than he has in a while.  
\---

Lance stares wide-eyed at the wall opposite his bed, brimming with shocked tears as his Soulmate’s heartbreaking Song suddenly cuts off, leaving him feeling adrift in his own body. 

He doesn’t know what happened to his Soulmate on the other side of the universe, has no way to even ask, but something in his gut tells him a major shift has happened on their end of the connection and Lance can’t tell if it’s positive or negative. With the way he’s been feeling since he closed the door on a baffled Shiro, and the despondent tone of the Song, his mind drags him into the latter assumption.

He’s not stupid. He knows that his Soulmate was probably singing about some lover in their personal life. He knows it’s almost a complete 100% chance that particular song isn’t about him. He knows his Soulmate probably doesn’t even know that their slow, solemn song reached the other end of their connection, but…

But. That doesn’t mean his mind dwells on the pieces that  _ could _ maybe, possibly strike a chord with him. Does his Soulmate not Sing his songs anymore? Was their voice trembling and reedy because of him? His distance? His inability to find them? He knows how fucking stupid it is to be so damned self-centered about it. Honestly, he feels a bit disgusted with himself that he kind of hopes it’s about him.

He knows it’s messed up. He knows, okay? In some twisted way, he thought the emotional outpour being directed at him was some sort of confirmation that they cared. He usually doesn’t let himself get too deep in his feelings like this but Dios, he could use a little comfort every now and then.

He curls into himself, trying everything in his power to stifle the hateful commentary his mind spews at him, letting his tears run silently toward his mattress until exhaustion claims him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song in this chapter is [Lord Huron's "The Night We Met."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtlgYxa6BMU)
> 
> Next up: Keith's and Shiro's feelings, Lance's (l)angst and Pidge deserves nice things.

**Author's Note:**

> General (repetitive) translations to be added here as I update! (Chapter-specific translations will come before or after the chapter itself.) If you catch any mistakes or a word that I missed, please let me know in the comments and I'll fix it! <3
> 
> Japanese:  
> Haha - mother  
> Chichi - father
> 
> Spanish:  
> Hermana - sister  
> Hermano - brother  
> Abuelita - Grandma  
> Abuelo - Grandpa  
> Tía - Aunt  
> Primos - cousins  
> Tío - uncle  
> Dios - God


End file.
